I am so tone deaf to the rest.

Out of tune with the crew that creates what is cool in this school of dead fish effortlessly moved with the stream.

What I mean is everything you know is a dream.

Now wake up.

Look at your relationship with God.

Now break up unless you see the devil through his make-up.

Satan infiltrated every sanctum with a Jesus Halloween mask so I'm not surprised that you guys worship greenbacks, hah.

Money, money, money.. that's all we want.

Got people lookin' at me funny 'cuz Brazi don't play that rapper role in fancy clothes 'cuz underneath that Louis V, I see his pantyhose.

Those people we call stars are so insecure.

That's why they always make themselves seem so preferred until you finally converse with him or her and discover their just another one of us.

But we feel inclined to praise whatever shines.

Resulting in humility's loss battling pride.

Whenever you combine the aforementioned you find that arrogance is derived and subsequently supplied to a nigga that can brag 'bout killin' his own kind.

He Ray Cash, a pimp in his own mind.

I just laugh then let out a long sigh.

My eyes have gone dry so I let the songs cry.

My lead sheds achromatic tears on an ivory face between two blue lines that remind me of veins because I'm pained by thoughts like finding my place beside the Most High while most lie dying in graves made up of flesh.

And so I'm vexed, 'cuz when I look to my right and to my left I see my loved ones beautifully blessed yet they travel trails traced toward imminent death of the conscious mind.

Where we don't wanna have a lover, we want concubines.

And we don't sacrifice for God but I'll die for my chain, my whip.

He's lame, I'm rich, your consciousness stayed on that slavery ship.

Would you please refrain from spittin' that same dumb talk on every song you on?

Dog, I hear you barkin' but look what you bitin' on.

Counterfeiting true enlightenment with a shiny stone.

I have grown tired of undercover maricones shaping how the world thinks, converting mind, body, soul, into the interworking cogs of a party drone that gets wasted and hates when the high is gone.

So I've sewn seeds of knowledge in that Brazi flow hoping they'll sprout roots into you and finally grow into a flower that reflects the Almighty's glow.

If this is too fast then catch up, you prolly slow.

I'm supersonic, phonic tectonics what I be on.

While them niggas rap, I'll be drawing out a map.

Hope you find your way back to reality.

If not, then to Yah I pray that you can find the strength to pry open your eyes and see the world for what it is.

Them shoes you got on your feet could feed 100 kids.

But you don't hear me though.

Go ahead and tune me out.

Take food off of their plates, put it in Gucci's mouth.

I'm truly south, from the state where four young boys had a sit in and told the segregators we don't get in where we fit in.

We get where we belong.

So when I hear a song going on about lemons, you'll know why I'm sickened... to the stomach with this jiggaboo rubbish that our youngins bump religiously.

Are you fuckin' kidding me?

The industry is full of boot-clickin', ass-kissin' house niggas.

Is you wit 'em? Lemme know.

If you ain't, let it show through your words and your verbs.

Our music gettin' spins in the hood and the burbs, so nigga I don't care if you get a little hurt when I say that it's absurd for my people to be dirt poor, middle finger livin', flippin' birds tryna swerve from the big house.

We serve it to our own, that's the shit that makes me sick.

How we've fallen from the grace of being named as the creators now we're tamed by the cremators of our history.

WAKE UP.

No reparations for the builders of the nation.

They lock us up in cages 'cuz we found a way to make it sayin' FUCK minimum wage pay.

I'm tryna cake up.

We been in Martin's dream too long, it's time to wake up.

Wake up.