1. |
Intro
05:43
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2. |
You Gotta Problem
02:53
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VERSE I:
Straight out of the burbs
Spittin fire that'll scold ya
Vallejo, California, E-40 shoulda told ya
Rolling over adversaries nicknamed boulder
So get out the way, it's about to get colder
Dusting off my shoulders while I'm stepping over roadblocks
Tipping over porter-potties, while yall take commode squats
Better check the credits, I bet it reads
My company lettering
ProfeticLyrics, everybody else is just settling
Writing's my calling, it's ok, you can let it ring.
Tried to stop me in customs, cause I keep on meddling
Fighting for 2nd place? Awww, keep pedaling.
I'm kinda committed to this and music's my wedding ring.
Yeah, I got the game wrapped
and I don't just wrap
and you can trust, that shyt you talking get's flushed
Wack rappers attack us
steady claiming that they're the baddest.
You're out for victories that don't even matter to us
Aint worth discussion while you're cussing and screaming, "Get out my lane!"
I'm on a jet plane, reclining the seat.
You gotta problem on your hands now
You should've planned out
How the hell to stop a young black educated man
Down for the cause
Won't set my standards down for applause
Not for the fame
This shyt's more than a monopoly game
Profet's the name
Betta step up on your property name
Topics have changed
and we aint even discussing your name
You gotta problem.
CHORUS:
You gotta problem
You gotta problem
You gotta problem
You gotta problem
and that's me...that's me...that's me...that's me
VERSE II:
Who am I?
I'm just a motha f*ckin regular dude
Paying dues
to a society that's ready to prove
They're worth more than the recession dollar versus the yen
Verses extend
It hurts to pretend
So I'm going in
On a one-way traffic filled street
Hitting donuts in the middle of the block
Hollering YE! (theoretically)
If you aint grinding then you better be
I've got rhymes for miles, while yall centimeter measuring
I'm the ruler of the school
Got the tools and the abilities
Professor of the pen
Lyrics seep out of my skin
F*ck a trend!
I'm carpooling, good gas mileage
riding on 10s
Let me stop....now watch em spin
My name is L-Y-R-I-C-A-L P-R-O-F-E-T
Spell it out phonetically
Put it in a melody
Front and tell ya folks, that you wasn't even feeling me
But we both know
CHORUS:
You gotta problem
You gotta problem
You gotta problem
You gotta problem
and that's me...that's me...that's me...that's me
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3. |
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VERSE I:
Whether jeans or slacks
I’m well pressed, light sag in the back
Gotta walk like I’m diagnosed with swagger attack
Watch em react
the ladies say, boi you a mack
Look me up & down & try to peep the tip on the bat
(I’m sayin)
Naw I aint playin,
I‘m just spittin it fact
gotta cold mouthpiece
see me rippin the track right?
The problem is,
I don’t know how to act
Cuz tucked shirts & me
is like free throws & Shaq
I had an interview at 9:15
betta know, I’m in the lobby sharp at 9:15
gotta stay sharp, so I need my green
but the lady behind the counter’s lookin at me mean
Excuse me miss,
I gotta blah blah blah
she picked up the phone
& all I heard was ha ha ha
Som’ bout me must’ve snapped her bra
and if momma didn’t raise me right
I woulda slapped the broad
when she said
So & so said position is filled
betta know, corporate America don’t be keepin it real
This aint the 1st time, I’m knowin the deal
Shirts untucked, like I gotta weapon concealed
I tried to reason, she ignored the appeal
So I, reached in my pocket for my pick made of steel
Picked out the afro, said thank you to ass hole
and walked out with guards on the heels
all because...
CHORUS:
I don't wanna tuck in my shirt (repeat)
VERSE II:
Second scenario same premise
Same young menace
Still stubborn as they come,
so come witness
I like my shirts pressed, lights starch
Baggy pants, loose draws & my socks dark
Stay ready for when situations might spark
Roll up to spots in a t-shirt
I’ll button up after I park
I never drive in the kicks I rock
Stick shift clutch
I’m switchin fits,
block by block
They got a dress code box?
Know that in ‘em I’m not
Damn...I’m kinda faded
Trynna remember the plot
I gotta pee
It’s a zip & a flop
TMI, Too Much Institutionalized
brainwashed
I floss with my mental Nina Ross
I’m lost in the system & I’m finna break out
Thin walls, dirty stalls, This aint what it’s about
Hard 8, 2 fingas, I’m out...like my shirt cuz
CHORUS:
I don't wanna tuck in my shirt (repeat)
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4. |
Dreaming
03:32
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VERSE I:
Was it all a dream
I never seen somebody so fly
So I took a mental picture fore she passed by
High heels, accentuate her nice thighs
Her hips spoke to me, fore I got waist high
I'm fitted up, so I'm thinking that I might try
Take a chance, then I glanced in her brown eyes
They're staring at me
Looked around for a second
Just to check if my perception was flawed
I'm thinking oh my God!
But still I stepped so calm
I asked a couple question, gave her so called charm
Somebody please, unplug the alarm
Cause I aint trying to wake up right now
She pulled the purse off her arm
Reached in and pulled out a pen
Wrote down the number with a heart at the end.
I'm really hoping this shyt aint pretend
Walked away thinking about the text message I'd send singing...
VERSE II:
I will never forget those brown eyes
Beautiful smile, she let me get a glance at her soul
But it was two fold
Her mental image in my mental frame
I called her up asked her if she wants to do some things.
We talked for hours, found out she's been through some things.
Recent scars often guard hearts
But she was God's art.
She knew religion and philosophy
I laughed it off when she asked me what's my prophesy.
She was in school chasing a law degree.
I said I'm chasing dreams, baby would you follow me @
Cat daddy and she dougied too.
We're holding hands on the dance floor like couples do.
Imagination's running wild, yeah but what's new?
I'm motivated. Kelly Rowland singing plus two
If I'm dreaming, my reality's about to bust through
If you knowing what I mean, then let's cut soon.
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5. |
You Asked For Change
03:36
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VERSE I:
You asked for change
Wallstreet stood & took to the streets.
The whole world stood behind them
In attempt to defeat
The 1%. Power struggle
With nobody to lead
Picket signs to the blind
Step up or concede
Mr President
We out here marching in peace
Tent city's gettin cold
While the hunger increases
Don't wait for the polls
Cuz the problems exposed
Thorned rose
from the concrete streets
where the woes
come in Costco packs
This is beyond black
Class wars
Separated by glass doors
You asked for-change
VERSE II:
We're only after what's right
Camp nights in the streets to ignite change
Asking 1% like Spike, Do The Right Thang
Banks raising fees, like greed's a disease
The trickle down never made it to me
I'm kinda jaded you see
Bills past due that I can't pay
Foreclosure notice telling me that I can't pay
Tear gas and sirens, but I can't stray
When occupy hit the streets of The Bay
It got real to me
Don't let the real cause disappear
Success is so far, realize that doom is near
If we don't hit the bulls-eye we won't sustain
From Wallstreet to Egypt to Oakland to Spain
You asked for change.
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6. |
9-1-1
04:22
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She's struggling to breathe
I got blood on my hands, but can't leave
I'm propping up her head while thinking, this is weave?
Damn, she used to be so real, but couldn't cope.
Now she speaks only about guns and dope.
I hope today isn't the day she passes on.
She's looking so weak right now, please be strong.
So many depend on you to carry on,
But so many pretend to love you.
When the storm comes, they disappear
and I'm starting to fear,
That I can't carry you alone
You're heart's turned stone
Would somebody please pick up the phone
cuz when Hip-Hop dies, she's gone
CHORUS: (Trevor Lyon)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them Hip-Hop's been shot down
and the bullet's in her heart
and it's piercing through her soul
I feel her body getting cold
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that my love's been shot
and she's falling apart
Please bring back Hip-Hop of old
I see the game is getting cold
Verse II (Dom Jones)
I’m breathing heavy as they keep firing shots
Won't someone come and protect me
My legacy is in jeopardy
I’m bleeding presently
No one’s dialing the cops
Take over hostilely
Fakers plotting to body me
Waiting for all the sauntering, swagger jacking and all the beef to stop
In reality, none of this shit embodies me
Can’t believe I’m laying here thinking of all you promised me
Blinked back tears, now all I am is a novelty on the block
A commodity, record exec's property
A dying genre
Formerly known as artistry
And please pardon me
Pop is blocking my arteries
But with my last breath, I’ll take us back to the top
CHORUS: (Dom Jones)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that I've been shot down
and the bullet's in my heart
and it's piercing through my soul
I feel my body getting cold
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that I've been shot down
and I'm falling all apart
and it's piercing through my soul
I feel my body getting cold
VERSE III:
180degrees
Ass backwards more concerned with the fees
Then the brothas RIP'd on the baggy ass tees
Please save her
She's begging in the pews on knees
Address real issues, teen sex and HIV.
Doctors saying she'll survive only 8x3
Time's ticking and the written words turned to disease.
What's popular will change like the leaves on trees.
While the fake blows away with the breeze.
Call 9-1-1
CHORUS: (Trevor Lyon)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them Hip-Hop's been shot down
and the bullet's in her heart
and it's piercing through her soul
I feel her body getting cold
CHORUS: (Dom Jones)
Someone please call 9-1-1
Tell them that I've been shot down
and I'm falling all apart
and it's piercing through my soul
I feel my body getting cold
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7. |
I'm Not Sorry
03:48
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VERSE I:
To the cats that came before me
Thank you for paving the way
Thank you for pressing record buttons
and letting it play
Now I got something to say
Anybody with me, let’s go
Everybody else, get outta the way
Speed it up to the day before the days my folks moved to The Bay
Mom lived in the projects, dead broke just trying to make a way
Financial aid and loans
trying to make it on her own
Pops came from the country
served his country
now his country’s gone crazy
They had some babies
Dedicated everything they had and prayed daily
Sent me to private schools instead of getting that Mercedes
Hated uniforms, but damn, I loved the ladies....anyway
Any way they could improve our chances
for advancement
they would chance it
so I can’t just say I’m sorry for being what I’ve become
I’m proud of my folks
and yeah, I’m proud of where I’m from
PREP SCHOOL COLLEGE ALUM yall
and I’m not sorry
CHORUS:
See I don’t give a damn about what’s been done before
and I’m not
I know I say a lot of things that you don’t understand
but I’m not
See I’m just doing what the f*ck I’m supposed to do
no I’m not
No autotune in the booth
delivering yall the truth
I know I missed a couple notes on the hook yall
but I’m not sorry
VERSE II:
My fourth grade teacher told me
I would never be shyt
My eight grade teacher told my mom
That she should just quit
My high school dean
Said that I probably wouldn’t graduate
Belief in self is all that matters
So forget the hate
No matter the status or accomplishments
We make it
Just stay true to self
And take it a day at a time
Whether or not,
I make it in rhyme
I know, I’m gon’ be fine
I work hard and stay on the grind
For that I’m not sorry
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8. |
Good Man
04:06
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VERSE I:
I wanna be a good man
Something that’s inside of me
All I do is try to be
but it’s hard, so hard to be a “good man”
The good stand tall
while the weak undermine it
Laugh & criticize it
Peer pressure got the meek wondering why’s it
so hard, so hard to be a “good man” in this world
Diamonds and pearls replace integrity
We build up walls, and use our words for weaponry
Maybe for protection,
I don’t know, I’m guessin
The weight of our words is lessening
While the kids follow the lessons seen
I want my son to be a good man
I want my daughter to understand her worth
so before their birth
I wanna make sure I’m an example
A man that can handle
the questions that arise, in their daily life
I’ll ask my wife if I’m a good man, before I have, before we have, before we have
VERSE II:
Show me the eyes of an angel
the heart of a saint
always have the answers
never say I can’t
teach you how to love art
maybe even paint
build up ya confidence
and make ya worries faint
Never ask where’s daddy
cuz I’ll be by your side
The right road is narrow
the wrong road is wide
Whether you win or lose
come back to me with pride
I’ll always have ya back
I’m just happy that you tried
Choose ya friends wisely
so many wear disguises
Planned or surprise
I thank God for your life
From ya first step, to ya first date
Never be in a rush, but never hesitate
Remember everything in life has a time & place
Forget them other lames, run it atcha own pace
I plan to be there, but I wrote this rhyme just in case
I never get the chance,
I want your mom to tell ya this
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9. |
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I, Speak truth, cuz so few will
Stand up while many remain still
We gotta get it, cuz if not who will
No use waiting round, got time to kill?---------Naw
Gas pedal, punch
Last of the bunch
Who gives a f*ck about the future
Good talk, let’s do lunch
Keep it movin, like the laws of inertia
Real life, not dress rehearsal
In flight, gotta check with the purser
Make moves, like the dog that hurtcha’s on ya heels
The real’s extinct
It feels we think
Too much in the now
But for now, we sink
In to the seats
Grip wood grain & slap beats
Fillin up ya mind, like a shoe with fat feet
Killin off rhymers. Thought that he had heat
Mistaken
Trim fat, cheap ass bacon
I’m shaking, the dice & rolling
And I aint folding
Speak With Beatz, gon’ show it to em.
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10. |
Break These Chains
02:40
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I’ve been trying to break these chains
But the lyrics they keep on running through my veins
Cut me open and see words pour out like rain storms
No norms
See unformed thought....it’s poetry.
See I’ve been chained to the rhythm of the track
Now, I pay taxes on how crowds react
So, speaking truths on what I see as fact
Captured and grabbed by who I tried to aid
Music is art, not something you can grade
Controlled by faders on mixers
None can fix us
Time more than ticks
Real words they, stick in our mind
We’re seldom defined
We live in-between the lines drawn
Never decline to speak my thoughts in rhyme on
Any topic, any rhythm, but the argument remains?
I’m self-conscious with my lyrics so they constantly change
Defined by my faults way more than my gains
But....watch me break these chains
See I’ve been chained to the rhythm of the track
Now, I pay taxes on how crowds react
So, speaking truth on what I see as fact
Chains hold us back from destiny’s path
You question or laugh at
My right for being here rerun your math
I’m business minded, I don’t need no staff
Got the next 10years in Excel on graph
I accelerate over hurdles
My goals is way further
No time for breaks
I’m accustomed to snakes
But for now, I’ll keep it friendly for customers sake
But I aint never been the type associating with fakes
A man’s worth is worth way more than any man makes
And the less bending on principle the longer the path takes
So...I know....I know....
But watch me break these chains.
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11. |
This Is My Prayer
07:23
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God grant me the right to live a long life
Raise some kids and appreciate my wife
Remain strong, when things go wrong
but I'm thankful, even if this is my last song
VERSE I:
I’m tired of seeing lives lost, at too young of age
It’s kinda crazy seeing fights spark from the stage
Kinda looks like waves crashing, casualties of fits of rage
End up in hospitals if lucky, but too many graves
Lord Save Em
Ambulance is on the way
Somebody move this damn car, gotta clear the way
Time is more than money in this case, wouldn’t you say?
What a price to pay for having a good time.
Now let’s pray
CHORUS:
God, Please save us
This is my prayer
Life can seem impossible
At times I stop and stare (up at the sky like)
God, Please save us
This is my prayer
I close my eyes to make sure you’re still there
This is my prayer (repeat)
VERSE II:
My bills stack up taller when my bills lack
Stomach’s growling, I’m just trynna get a meal back
The hoop is raising, we might wanna get Shaquille back
So many frontin, I’m just trynna bring the real back
Scuffed kicks & without glue the heel flaps
Tough brick exteriors getting peeled back
My city's bankrupt, I’m outta gas & wheel’s flat
I mean tire, I’m just tired. Can you feel that?
Can you feel that, I’m in a bind and wanna steal that
Trynna be morally right, but on the real black
I gotta eat, and my conscience won’t let me fail
I’m a victim of show and tell
In a situation revealed
On the news,
Ironed my suit, and I shined shoes
Trynna go legit, while applying rules
Pink slips move quicker than my shoes
Is running for Mayor
We in recessions, there’s no dust on that chair
But the streets is where I’m keeping my ear
Come shake my hand at the fair
To those that’s listening, the message is clear
Don’t stop until the finish line you chase disappears
Stay yourself no matter what, it’s only you in the mirror
Hit the gas pedal fearlessly, and let God steer
God grant me the right to live a long life
Raise some kids and appreciate my wife
Remain strong, when things go wrong
but I'm thankful, even if this is my last song
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