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Who... Do... You... Think you are? Seeing they schemes Watch what I know deplete Find meaning in things Lost grasp of myself, held on for me Knowing defeat ain’t foreign It’s lessons in these scriptures If you told me to read, listen I benefitted When I seen lines between game and wisdom Same n***a, jottin’ down thoughts in my folks kitchen Knowin’ we gone hit been Shown that God’s gift really gracin’ the way I walk So my word is I’m gon’ live Seen the snakes sittin’ in the grass, on purpose Posted with a smile on they face, on purpose My eyes seen denial in they face When the devil in the way Spread your wings then fly… In my will It should read “Just leave it there in the dirt” What's a Mill to a Meek? Watch me inherit the Earth The Dream is a nightmare We built America’s worth I need a Bimmer in between the baby carriage and hearst I wrestled demons and my doubts, watched them crawl right back I made the Roc raise a brow, guess I’m Raw like that They sent over a contract to own all my tracks I twisted an L wit it Then lit a fire, to hell wit it Insult to my intelligence Charts about my relevance Talkin’ to my relatives Know my problems is relative Know once I’m in my element It’s no more Mr. Eloquent I’m addressing the elephants Too much pride for the prejudice I’m just flesh on a skeleton That was blessed with some melanin Who am I to be special and viewed as some kind of specimen? Ladies and gentlemen, expats and residents Crack pushers and presidents Black beauty and excellence Who... Do... You... Think you are? Yo I was hours deep within a dream Playing some records with my lyrics on the inner sleeve Until I got shouted out (wake up!) Life in a crowded house Just tryna find some living room in a den of thieves But now I stand a made man with no tacky maneuvers Come out the crib to get a bag then it’s back to the movement I get caught up in the act of pursuing my own dreams I don’t care about what the f**k these crackers is doin’ A child born into a permanent underclass Full of misquotes and dish soaps for bubble baths Black vigilance, Black businesses understaffed And the odds never add up, ‘cause you have one the math I’m living proof of making something outta something bad So when my children grow, they ain’t gotta run as fast Some friendly words from a debated underrated rapper Tigallo, reminding you your favorite rapper’s f**king trash (Bridge) All that floodin’ the ice, turn off the faucet All that smoke in the pipe, got you exhausted All that salt in the wound, until it washes All that callin’ the goons, don’t wanna forfeit All that floodin’ the ice, turn off the faucet All that smoke in the pipe, got you exhausted All that salt in the wound, until it washes All that callin’ the goons, don’t wanna forfeit Who... Do... You... Think you are?
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