"[1]
They want what’s similar to what’s been on the radio
Say it’s no big deal, but if I’m for real, it is, but pay me no
Credit, cash, debit, slash, let it pass, with no assist
No resistance, know a listener can tell the difference
I really wish I gave a fuck about what other people do
I really don’t, but want you to feel like I wrote this song for you

But it was writer’s block that prompted it, and me, who wanted it
My promise is my narcissistic nature won’t be charmed by which-
Ever one’s opinionated statements about how I made it
I’m elated if you hate it. I’m complacent if you love it
I put myself way above it—see it like an ant farm
Can’t harm what you can’t touch. And I’ll give it up
Before I let it be perverted, you heard it from me directly
It’s silly if I ask you to, but I don’t respect me

Let me make myself real clear here—you n***as coonin’ and buffoonin’
And doing more damage to you than who you
Think is your enemy. Foolish, to think that men’ll see you
And then emulate your example. You see it clear like a sample
The opportunity’s ample, so you don’t put up a fight
Just sell what’s already there, ‘cause it’s your copy to write
Rite of passage is the massive misinformation you faced and made believe
You understood—that was the ace up your sleeve
So you sat down at the table to play. They made it look fun
You thought you had the high card, they told you you were the one
And you were
Sometimes you play a game and win, but despite
Your winning at it, somehow you find something missing life
Like for me? I’ll take the L before I take a few dollars
If I gotta endorse a product that I know to be harmful
Where’s the honor in a n***a being a n***a for sell?
May as well put on your heavy chain and work in the fields
How do you make a slave stay a slave? Tell him he can make a slave
And make some money while he’s at. It’s simple and tragic

[2]
If Willie Lynch was just a myth but his invention still persisted
Would it matter if we saw ourselves as chattel and we battled one another?
I was raised to hate my brother, so I hate him
And I hate the woman who created him. And maybe from
A certain angle, if you strain to see the truth, then you could see
That what it really is I’m dealing with has more to do with me
But I’m afraid of truth, and hate that you remind me who I am
And that’s related to the way I grew up trying to understand
How I could make it through this place and do what I was meant to, and
Face the fact that I was snatched from home and brought to tend the land
‘Cause that’s the complicated kind of truth America the Beautiful
Would hate to help me deal with, plus I feel it’s kind of mutually
Beneficial if I’m killin’ n***as and she want ‘em dead
As much as she wants me to go away. A bounty’s on my head

So they can ask for gun control and more restrictions
They can’t satiate the hunger that she has for hanging n***as
I’m a proxy and a peon; a patsy taking orders;
Apache scout attacking scalps and trying to save my borders;
A hoarder on a hunt for blood, I’m crippled by the thirst
So I’m riffin' over turf and bitches bitchin’ it gets worse
Because my women wanna curse a cursed n***a. I am first
A man who ain’t a man, but kind of mannish so it hurts
To think about it, be surrounded by it, even be convicted;
To see it and believe it, talk about it and bear witness
Fuck til death do us part, wellness or in sickness
I wanna see your thickness—twerk something—be my mistress
Be my bitch. I’ll treat you like the bitch you is, and we’ll be living
Then we can have some children…and you could raise them brilliant…
Or you could raise them feeling how I feel about us all…
The strangest kind of fruit to ever fall…

You could raise them how I feel about us all…
The strangest kind of fruit to ever fall."