I think I want a new drug like I’m Huey or
I need a cool G rap on some Truly Yours
They said it’s no strings attached
But the fact is, it’s all strings
The shit has more strings than a movie score
It kind of threw me for a loop like a lariat
They givin’ me the run around like a chariot
And I been starin’ at the shit so long it was like
“If you love it that much, you should marry it”
You could bury it away but it never takes
You could rearrange the pain into several shapes
It’s a fist, it’s a gun, it’s a song, it’s a start
It’s insurance on your heart if it ever breaks
And may God strike me down if I’m ever fake
Maybe she already did and I’ll never wake
I think it’s some kind of dream
Because sometimes it seems
Like I’m tryna take a shot I could never make

And yesterday’s like a promise I didn’t keep
And I been workin’ on a song but it’s incomplete
And when they put me on a different beat
That won’t be the reason that I tell ‘em
“Life is free, but it isn’t cheap”

No matter what they say, don’t ever admit defeat
I’m like a rain storm
I make a big splash when I hit the street
And make ‘em all dance in the heat
Or, like, lamp in a B-Boy stance at the least
Domination of the game, I may never see
Complications of a way I may never be
Maybe destiny has other plans
But, under the circumstance
I don’t even know what a success would be
I can’t call it, I’m not the best referee
I had to do it all myself out of necessity
And when I drop it like the Extra P
I tell ‘em buy the album
But you seldom buy the album you can get for free
So it’s a brave new world to maneuver and
I can’t party and bullshit like "Who’s the Man"
And even when they say you da man
You still gotta go into the booth and
Transform into Superman
Verbal astronomer, discover new bars
In the galaxy of stars on the verge of Andromeda
Word to Bambaataa, I’ma scientist, rap scholar tryin’ shit
Y’all have never heard in that genre
And everything is one thing, like the solar system
I think I need a new order like Joy Division
Boy, I listened to them other folks ‘til it went up in smoke
Nowadays I only trust my own opinion
Won’t it hit ‘em in the heart when the movement died?
Ask Jesus, it hurts bein’ crucified
But when the time had come to decide
Who killed the music
The coroner ruled it a suicide