Digibro:
Can't be on a mic, say you don't bite flow
What you know ain't a packaged with your soul
That baggage come and go, from the pink tube to the black hole
Rap gold ain't a n***a birthright, it's the iron throne

What you condone is of no consequence
Your sense of righteousness essentially irrelevant
I sent the message I intended, defended
My mind that you thought you upended, my friend it's
Essential, to be only me, that's myself
Concerned with my wealth and with my mental health

So what did they call me in school? let me help
It might start with an N, right, wait, holy hell
I nearly forgot that I'm white so
Lemme not say n***a when I sing along to a rap song
'cause that would be racist - segregate the language
Forget my identity, let's all save faces

Fuck that - buck that trend like the bull that it is
Save the white guilt for the kids
In the burbs never heard of a word like "trap"
Or been schooled in the bap 'cause they think it's for blacks

We stand on the cultural backs of our parents
A swirling milkshake of our heritage
That I drink down, for the powers of those before
Imbued with the fire by which future I forge

Ninouh:
It’s not a throne it’s a hot seat
And Chucky D Was keeping it warm
He got up to dust his shoes
In no time a bunch of other n***as changed up the form

Sound of the hood and the streets
Used to rebel and release
Years of abuse from police
Captured on vinyl CDs
Music from a whole generation
Was penetrating and changed minds of all different races

All these fuckers like to talk about their figures
Proud of how they’re getting bigger
When they never stop to give a thought
Measure every listener with melanin
Then see the number jettisoned when compared with the records bought
So if you’re mad about the people saying things that YOU WROTE DOWN
Well you’re looking at this business wrong

Don’t be a n***a writing n***a if some n***as who ain’t n***as ain’t the n***as who can sing along
Did you get that, do you peep this, do you understand?
Did you really need a nobody from London Town
To spell it out with common sense, well all you punks should hang

If it was up to Black and Platinum there would be no debate
It’s either everybody stops or we just live with this fate
There’s no underlying message of subliminal hate
Don’t respond with segregation when you opened the gates
It’s Nine Oh