It’s no lie
When you pulled out the nine
I had more reason to shoot
Than you had to survive
Pulled out the wallet
There was nothing to bribe
Still more reason to shoot/
Than you had to stay alive
And I'm still dead

If my struggles taught me I was not to run
If my feelings taught me it was all for blood
These feelings are so bad
This scheming cost me my kingdom come
This trouble brought me a love, once
These feelings are so bad
Your feelings are so bad

It’s no lie
When you pulled out the nine
I had more reason to shoot
Than you had to survive
Pulled out the wallet
There was nothing to bribe
Still more reason to shoot
Than you had to stay alive
And I'm still dead

My family wished me a pulpit soon
They'd have shouted if they knew
My feelings are so bad
Prophet swore we'd fulfill it soon
But I was late that, that afternoon
These feelings are so bad
Your feelings are so bad

It’s no lie
When you pulled out the nine
I had more reason to shoot
Than you had to survive
Pulled out the wallet
There was nothing to bribe
Still more reason to shoot
Than you had to stay alive
And I'm still dead

Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)
Still dead (BEEN DEAD)

In the rehearsed verses the purpose is to trap behind bars
On the surface it’s worthless, but this is art
I break bad like Aaron Paul
Spray the can like an aerosol
It’s an air assault, I’m airing the error ’til you throw shade like a parasol
It’s apparent ya’ll, this gift was underneath my skin
But made for the pulpit, a fool’s gift
Like I pull triggers, as if
I’m with bars, a barbarian
Bring the pallbearers in
Long nose goes in the body like carrion
Straight edge like a cesarean
Arrogant but prove relevant
Pop and spray like an elephant
These words are fire
This token smoking like weed in Boulder
I’m Urkel, a nerd with glasses blasting from two straps over his shoulders
The journey to become authentic
Said it before but I never meant it
White man in a black mask, suburban rap with another gimmick
Who am I? Am I street enough for these white guys
I’m a black one
I’m a black son
Can I be more than black once?

It’s no lie
When you pulled out the nine
I had more reason to shoot
Than you had to survive
Pulled out the wallet
There was nothing to bribe
Still more reason to shoot
Than you had to stay alive
And I'm still dead

STILL DEAD
BEEN DEAD
STILL DEAD
BORN, BRED
STILL DEAD
BEEN DEAD
STILL DEAD
BORN, BRED
STILL DEAD
BEEN DEAD
STILL DEAD
BORN, BRED
STILL DEAD
BEEN DEAD
STILL DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
DEAD
Still