by Christopher K.P. Brown Swords cut the tape showed their lord then they raped prohibited our drums still, the tracks we make Utopia's last rebels knowledge blankets the treble bumping Jigga, D'evils but Malcolm once called them devils for pillaging native land I man with a turban told me that our circumstance was certainly something difficult to understand how bottom boys crawl through struggles to become men of high rank only for america to leave us scarred dishonorable discharge when we say how we do this for community instead of Franklins, Hamiltons, and Lincolns I wasn't motivated by presidents til 2009 to understand that is to understand my bloodline and Black Wallstreet the Watts Riots Nat Turner Nat Turner the red tape that took our 40 acres racist Quakers the makers of this nation never got their portion the chronicles of a people beautiful as the Harlem Renaissance ugly as bombing four little girls influential as Fela making music that touches the whole world and heals home at the same time this bloody bandage on my society translates as red tape.

(verse 1) – b.ware Hootie hoo was the phrase, back in Southwest Atlanta, aye! bumpin’ that southerplay, thumpin’ monkey niggas for they J’s hustlin’ tusslin’, brain muscle sho’ wasn’t in rather, who could bust a rim, cussin’, we wasn’t pushin’ pens Higher Learning ‘bout racist Remis, Forest Gump loved Jenny uncles drunk off Henny, Halloween, dump them Good & Plentys d-boys flashed semis, flask-barrel, life wasn’t no gimme we ain’t know shit about no college, or no fuckin’ Kappa shimmy so what you want from me? These boys ain’t no dummies but it’s hard when you hungry, to get used to empty tummy in school writin’ book summaries, it’s cooler to chase them honeys yet foolish, you choose… niggas will do murder for that money that Ghetty-Ghetty Green readily illegal means when options often obsolete, we lash out, you snuff our dreams it’s ya boy, b.ware, as these flows materialize I’ma let my gold shine, I’ma let my gold shine (Hook 2x) – Project Pat all playas hustlin’, lemme see ya gold shine all my playas comin’ up, lemme see ya gold shine gold rings, gold chains, gold teeth on the grind lemme see ya gold shine, lemme see ya gold shine (verse 2) – b.ware Willin’ champagne to my real friends… waiter and real pain to my sham friends… straight up pray Cobain ain’t my future, Don’t Wanna Be A Fool, Luther and learn from them cougars, so the young girls can’t school bruh labor, The Free is championing, brandish my pen and riddle phlegm about my life of candid sin, raised of Manwich and country wisdom, it ain’t never miss him but that Ritalin ain’t gone get them young niggas out that white man’s prison wantin’ more than 40 acres, so I read-double like bassoon player fuck reparations we’ll never get that or a plot of land for us to live at, if you plot plans to sit back throw rocks and hid your hands, we got the gag for your trick-ass ah! This ain’t Hollywood, it’s south cities to backwoods projects to boondocks, my country family that’s hood where they roll and smoke a pound, coke is toted town to town mosque right next to Heaven Bound, niggas get ya soul found! (Hook 2x) – Project Pat (verse 3) – b.ware yeah, I was ridin’ through the hood pushin’ a Honda Civic ain’t nobody from my hood that I would ever forget we was wishin’ to bear fruit, now I’m feelin’ like the last tree take a walk in my Nikes, get ya dogs off that leash see a playa stay down like ‘Kast in ‘94 even though The Love went Below, real niggas stay tryna grow most can’t cope, caps get peeled, no will, nap in a ditch while me and NoTiQ reinvent the wheel of this south shit what up, Krit! True rhyme sayer, I’m set to bomb… Jager meister, maestro the mic, flow, dodge po-po, protect the paper they cookin’ and crock pottin’, no intention of stoppin’ on top of that coke like froth, the cops is watchin’ raisin’ my apprentices to bare the torch when I’m finished and, this the beginnin’, a 1080p image I’m just a young mane havin’ thangs on the grind I let my gold shine, I’ma let my gold shine (Hook 4x) – Project Pat

(verse 1) – b.ware For starters, cut the red tape I dedicate mixtape to youngsters, who crime commit to ease hunger brothers in early 90’s who murdered for Starter this is my work, word blurt until my lung hurts word up, past cumulus cloud on sunny day verses accumulate and pile up at heaven’s gate ear me, Lord Father, I fear thee Black people, I Love you dearly, livin’ for day we get it straight familiar with niggas who die just to levitate upward mobility denied in present state I claim-stake to our freedom, want it? Take legally, but never wait for the pink… we don’t need’em pledgin’ allegiance to reason, self-thinkin’ U.S. will call it treason, I ain’t for appeasement, believe it stamped with credence, null of pretense when you hear this, read dense, I’m fearless witness my fingerprint, ink and script this is document meant to stand the test of tock and tick from Africa to the block you live from College Park to the top of Egypt’s pyramids without vision, the people perish so I illustrate with wordage, they say Love takes courage still implicate the art, please pair it commit it to memory post-hearin’ it, regurgitate the verbs you ate mimic me like parrot, fly like your jean’s zipper selvedge, Bryan said “b. wear’em selfless” and they fabricated in that, no seam ripper walkin’ with Isa in’em, front pocket I got my scissors… (bridge) – b.ware to cut the red tape, reiterate as my pens menstruates ink instrumental in negatin’ perceptions that we are minstrel apes, nah it’s truly in you, you’re great (repeat) – b.ware cu-cu-cut-cut the red tape (talking) – b.ware b.ware presents… The Red Tape Chronicles seen through my monocle this is the chronicles… part 1

(intro) – b.ware Birth it and beat it, kill it and grieve it bury and leave it, hurry retrieve it the money mislead you, see what that greed do a dyin’ breed cryin’, “Lord lead our seeds back to you!” (chorus) – b.ware unh! Yeah, Grope the money, such a tease Khujo told me never float in the mainstream but I lust, the perks when submerged, it’s a curse gotta trust your heart and your art… it starts… (verse 1) – b.ware yeah, off the cutting board chopped up sentences, submitted to film scores clear? Dear to the heart’s chores core strong as earth’s when birthed into this war of fear… language of lame laymen poke ya chest, bloated ya inner-force nah, tainted… blame men for your sores tame him ‘cause Damiens in his pores deaf ear, devil is at the level of the city got’em shifty where the poor stay busy words once was uplifting, check The Source man, the magazine clips depict whores while magazine clips dump, chumps slump to floors fillin’ morgues, give’em more words to write for the story’s never boring, keep killin’ forever trapped in a movie but the money moves he and our children (chorus 2) – b.ware Grope the money, such a tease Khujo told me never float in the mainstream but I lust, the perks when submerged, it’s a curse gotta trust your heart and your art… so, write for the right these jawns for the wrong hold your head high, it won’t be long all you can do is try with each and every song never sell them out, they’ll Love you when you gone (verse 2) – b.ware (don’t fall in Love with the shiny things) I said, even zippers fly, nigga… if you ain’t catch that then you got a long drive to the green like Phil Mickel let out a long sigh to my team for my niggas in the rough and we bogeyed up, I’m tryna eagle ‘cause even zippers fly… I mean inanimate objects soar so why you deny the gift you was granted for afforded fortunes yet you orphan your orders, abandon your daughters for fortresses and more quarters pour quarts of champagne, order whores in short dresses, campaigning “ignore the message!” but we ain’t shit but a message, either blessed or devilish lull’em to sleep with sedative beats, I cry and I weep as they die in the streets, mentally, peace Hosni men’s casualties tallying up, my flesh too is corrupt so I’m cool, no rush, we the dogs they mush yeah the tools is us, prove you ain’t touched nigga what! (chorus 2) – b.ware (verse 3) – b.ware at Magic City he was a Kraft singles tosser, the dimes would often offer lap dance for free of charge-uh, just to swim in his aura we’ll call him John Conner ‘cause Terminators did try to off’em toted a Mossburg pump to keep haters off’em pushed a black Charger, rhymes were black Chaucer I mean, Canterbury Tales from the hood, a worthy author banter wording was always proper, propped up at the top like Big Poppa once was, kids Loved him like Tonka to niggas he was 2pac the, government had to ostra- cize him for his ideas and influence on his peers it brewed like a beer, then fizzed, God saw his tears fought the media monster, religious bodies indoctri- nated his patrons with hatred for him, shakin’ his faith and patience, he wasn’t proper enough to share their God but he could reach them Waka Flockas where them preachers can’t see the horror the fame fosters, my niggas it’ll cost ya (chorus 2 2x) – b.ware (don’t fall in Love with the shiny things) (don’t fall in Love with the shiny things this life can bring)

(verse 1) - b.ware yeah... unh, uh-unh... Heavy letters of bold fragmented sentences from the etcher of scrolls wretched and cold (so cold) can you dig the tales told, mine my mind it swells with gold… but so cold (so cold) thoughts impaled on the north pole while the pale seek control of the whole globe my #2 spews pure karats, 24 sure, air it, our parents fought through clearances hope uncouth, youth so arid little to fair with so we fiddle with riddles over instrumentals to free our souls, indeed but you can see when we breathe (why?) ‘cause we so cold God, how I bereaved when they took Anthony became frigid, freed by forgiveness now I snitch on society, what a witness the lot of its fallacies… I’m Lot, sprinting to the Black block from the tyranny (hook 1) - b.ware so we think poems, and we sing songs with our bling on, sellin’ ring tones pinky rings shown, easily reach domes in ghetto streets, homes, till they repeat gone! (verse 2) - b.ware but I can show you where the fire sleeps though we Antarctic-hearted, lungs permafrosted the arch villains been accosted for the nonsense hearken for harbingers like drinkers of the hard liquor… make it simpler, we wanted Love and guidance got addicts and pimpers and they blame the young if we been heathen since teethin’ be believing it’s cause you raised’em (hook 2) - b.ware but, since they ain’t raise us, we gotta train us wake our brains up, hang the pain up can’t be a lame duck, we are the anchor this is our aim, bust! (verse 3) - b.ware furthermore, I black-al gore it truth inconvenient, no lenience, you can store it fools lie… if ignorance is bliss I’m headed for suicide the globes warmin’, you’re great but in this House you’re all Foreman and the hospital is so cold, deadly decorum conflictin’ temperatures with the outdoors we are The Free… when touring, we go green Civic sitting with a pro-lean hosting all our shows mean, whole team hoping all of our quotings hit your eye like Moe Greene God Father… wanna give’em a better view, though they souls froze in streets where souls crush crack pipes crack crushes souls, froze, guzzlin’ spirit water will get your spirit farther from The Father but we survive the fire, Travis Barker and we snow cold, I got the space-heater to warm the race, no fever me and Sugar-Free, unh! (singing) - Adrienne Walker soul so cold… soul so cold (talking) - Corey P. Henry Soul on Ice...

(intro) – b.ware mmm… Zulu… (yeah), Zulu! Zulu! This go out to all my niggas in the pen (my cousin T.A.) the young, the lost forgotten and ignored (R.I.P. Ant), to all my family you know what it is nigga! (verse 1) – b.ware yeah, yeah farewell friend, but fuck the judge first he can’t fathom your reality, how your heart hurts maybe I can’t either, did I do my part either watch from afar, send letters or pray hard? coulda been better, sin kept ya, swept ya away present a day it seems, back to playin’ us in my dreams in that little blue house in the deep south, meek me quietly admiring, and relying on ya street clout creep with ya heat out, peace ain’t what he be bout but, hurt people hurt people, brings out the worst in you when you’re cursed, most can’t see you, world will mislead you but it’s dark behind them bars, no partial gleam-through me too, I’m feelin’ lost, peelin’ off riding with cloudy eyes, this ain’t a final goodbye this is a “see ya soon,” I’ll be visiting, I’m older now still wonderin’ if you’re more comfortable in or out (hook 1) – b.ware once in awhile I can look at you (just wanna look at you my nigga) and see the twinkle in your eyes zulu love letter, this is family we love better zulu love letter, we love better… Zulu! (my whole family) zulu! (my whole family) zulu! Zulu! (verse 2) – b.ware sacrifices, sendin’ up young lives it’s shots from polices, tots learn what we fightin’ Motts was a luxury, Tampico is what we’d drink el cheapo, might fuck up a kidney though yo, them kids need more Love, intimacy illiteracy plagues mom and poppa, kids need more (Love) kids knees sore from prayin’, Eddie Long could it be ya ministries don’t feed us like we need to be me, the chief rocka, sing our story… opera glock poppers to doctors all a part of my saga Mercer to where they’ll murk ya, for ya shirt bruh but it’s art where I author novel narrative label we heretics? C’mon, cuz, blood of my blood now lather with Dove to wash it off of ya gloves it’s all (Love), even with fear instilled to break our will I let my pen build ill at will. (hook 2) – b.ware (if we don’t raise our young, who gone do it for us? Know what I’m sayin’?) zulu love letter, these our kids, love better zulu love letter, they deserve better… Zulu! (that’s to the youth) zulu! (I say, that’s to the youth) zulu! Zulu! (verse 3) – b.ware this is strength, my self-defense, walk with a limp talk like a pimp, never balk, I ain’t a simp never dreamt I’d be seein’ all this chalk on the strip all this murder make me yearn for some purp to get blimp fuck some hemp, that THC the shit, couple hits of the best and that stress sure to fade like temp gimme (Love), let me see its remnants don’t wanna pollute all my gifts addicted to that Shawn Kemp sniff sniff, hint-hint, the stu… dimly lit rebuke that dimwittedness, who is you kiddin’ with this is lyric shit and I pen it to lift my niggas, spirits more than liquor ever could be credited with said it when broke, will he say it when rich? yeah and I put that on my girl like some Reddi-wip, lick! I’ll never jump ship… like Skip Gates, nigga stay awake! (hook 3) – b.ware (and that’s to you handkerchief head-ass niggas) zulu love letter, fuck cheddar my love’s better zulu love letter, my loves better… Zulu! (all my niggas) zulu! (all my niggas) zulu! Zulu! (outro) – b.ware zulu love letter, niggas. Love; no fear. no matter what. it’s us against us… c’mon!

(intro) - b.ware Wherever your heart lies, that’s where you’ll find your treasure… when you got treasure inside you and try to tell people about’em seldom will they believe… yeah… I heard when you set out to pursue your Personal Legend the universe conspires in your favor when you really desire something and have the courage to go pursue it, the universe conspires to help you… but you gotta believe niggas… like I believe… there’s only one way to learn, and that’s through action… act now… so will I… (verse 1) - b.ware Press on... (rpt) would you believe that I mustered up the strength for it my competitors playing catch up… i stay hot, dog no room for the custard, it’s too sweet sister told me to be frank etcetera… whatever it’s not a problem, been bubbling since the bottom she was my Hillary Rodham, but I never cheated trust was my poison, they say bleed it or lack thereof, intoxicate me, you are my drug heaven, i need a hug finna faint is that look of love since she gave me the boot, lugz still on a ?uest for it, Square Roots the rain came quick like a flash flood… i found comfort in the booth the truth, each of us had to blossom like a tulip or blow so, like the atom, a split was necessary left a legacy legendary and with my two lips I pay tribute to you Ms. Hail storms came later… Goodfella, I’m a made man no umbrella, but ice hurts when it’s chugged from up above and plus the haters throwing tomatoes, when i ain’t even hit the stage, damn took it in blood like plasma, soon a master for the masses vivid picture descriptive like a camera, digital flash, look at his mug centerfold, they livid… Never silent, these choice words is my privilege no kidding, rated-r, for real, reveal it all career mirror Paul Revere, pour it on raw like Season All in the long haul, you can fall from grace but I believe my agility’s assisted me, watch the tricks up my sleeve lift it, it’s elbow grease workin' out kinkos yo, spit, print it, i got infinite ink yo this for those poor, unclothed, the meek and bros close my folks and distant foes keep believing and press on (rpt)

(chorus) - Adrienne Walker Eternal Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine Eternal Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine Eternal Sunshine, Sunshine, Sunshine (sunshine, wating on the sunshine...) Eternal Sunshine, Ohhhh (verse 1) - b.ware Unh, smooth it out, Justice i need canvas for my brushes... help me paint it dance if you choose, macarena it i prefer you chill on couch plushes... smoke a book drink the knowledge, but sip, these words are slushes brain freeze if you guzzle it, easy, don't rush it it ain't a tease, streets is dangerous the corners live, brothers is fly, with sunshades applied waiting for eternal sunshine, but my eyes spy grim beginnings, litigant from sinning with infinite penitence, but is repentance still forgiven when it's so evil you're forgetting him the serum is so lethal your will to win is dwindling huh, some say Islam is deliverance and Christians some hypocrites hmmm, well i don't know bruh, but Love is Blacker than my culture, unh! ...Sugar-Free (bridge) - b.ware they say we should all know and hold (and hold) wisdom for our souls to grow (to grow) but we reap all the woe they've sown (we reap the woe... they've sown) now driven from our homes we roam (now... driven from our homes... roam, waitin' fo') waiting for... (Chorus) - Adrienne Walker (verse 2) - b.ware ah! our minds will never be spotless the problem is the propagandizes got us hostage with broken promises, how long will we sit and watch this hoping we'd be set free from these evils once we Barack'd it... the vote but it's by design you suffer, brother, real quote they kill your folks 'cause if you rise they fall, trust each other heal the ills prevalent in your urban sprawl shepherd like german dogs these black sheep, and we can build hope this approach is flax seed, good for heart my bottom-boys ain't Backstreet, they hood-hard when it's dark, they packin' heat like thermos learn-ed with wicked wisdom to get ya to hell's furnace permanent, learning, i assert it's sun on the other side, with clean lives we'll see it's light and let it settle in preserve the melanin prevalent in ya skin take oath with kin, till we're one with our origin like that! ...real rap, baby (bridge) - b.ware (chorus) - Adrienne Walker (waiting fo'... ohh, ohh... waitin fo') (verse 3) - b.ware by the way, this here is eternal discernible words, learn a few earnest, to my niggas carrying cross and women behind the nails like cuticle, cue the flutes my musical from up above to you there's nothing new under the sun, beautiful so when like is cumbersome, your faith is cummerbund who woulda knew they would take, these traps you can escape hey, never run away, our babies at stake i wanna awake and see... (chorus) - Adrienne Walker (talking) - b.ware me and my folks, waiting on the sunshine... eternal sunshine... yeah...

WHO'S AFRAID OF THE PUNK POLICE? DO MY NIGGAS RUN THESE STREETS? FUCK PEACE!

(chorus) – b.ware Quiet as kept, the best secret yet southern bred, southern fed, southern check the best secret yet, quiet as kept south, suh-southside, yes! (verse 1) – b.ware y’all hear that sax don’t ya? that ain’t John Coltrane and I ain’t profane in most thangs, no need to ring alarm but I will pull a Return of the G, enter the scene like I once left, though I’m introducing anti-pawn, no shame meaning no weigh-ins prior to bout, impulse, move ring to the south gloves off, I am home while my folks playin, emotions take’em, mood-ring mouths inconsistent nigga livin… prison visits extended, give’em game and wisdom, they still scrimmaging tweak ya imaging, see ain’t no censorin’ b sensors in-line and I can skate fine don’t watch if you hate time with 3 minute rounds my hook and power punch lines make ya recline no disqualifying when I bite ear, so that you might hear it’s all spar… nah, spell it in rewind, ah! (chorus) – b.ware (verse 2) – b.ware now, now now on this journey into unknown, we’re learnin’ how to run home to permanent furnishings like the beds we used to jump on and momma hummed them Love songs, I’ma say we was once prone to llama play, comma, honestly she’s admonish me to dodge gurneys, “c’mon baby” she’d say, to fervently tourniquet me a la heroin users, “you shoot?” unh! burn a spliff, learn a bit, Allah’s bosom, stay in it for cushion, Perry did say during haircuts to prepare us for discerning drug abusers, even those who pollute ya hood, commerce commissioners, capitalists up to no good they say you should not be rappin’ about this rather, commercial mainstream when aiming, so niggas would ignore they fascist practices, maybe we should quit complaining, they ain’t interested in investing in hoods, where they hop scotch, and clock on blocks police fox-trot, and release shots to ki’s and weed spots hot! (chorus) – b.ware (verse 3) – b.ware and for this team that I rep? so pristine as we step in any arenas kept exclusive from our troopers by Ku Klux grand wizards, not Gilbert Arenas what I mean is we bleed this, and wanna see shifts in your mental, yeah, keen with the scripts pencils give you info, we don’t need to be silencio Mr. Bean you been kept.. speak for ya set the weak will neglect and call that street shit but that ain’t street shit, it’s cowardice, no Black Power fist when we convene, secretly kept, mean, we address discreetly? Yes, we in jeans, you, a dress/skirt we in (WE)alth t-shirt, new-era headdress I digress… how is it now I spit? When several years back severed from the pack like Lu, who woulda knew I’d be picked by you, to represent real shit now witness how I stick, you can’t get rid of the team, nigga! (chorus) – b.ware (talking) – b.ware

(hook) – b.ware Plot, scheme, scam is the tactics of the man get hot, use fans, stage a coup then scram you’re a sacrificial lamb, never stutter like flam taps rudimentary moves, make them understand that (verse 1) – b.ware hold up! Glass ceiling? It’s no such thing as barriers, limits, I don’t Identify with gloaters humble as Mohandas my blokes and I, growth inspired by the most-just while most just bust flow for the dough, rush plus plush bucket seats in the Rover roll bucks, throw, flood the floor at Strokers it’s all a farce like the March on Washington see them jokers, froze up by the quotes of b.ware, his steez be Zone-3, see? King’s ’63 dream was Malcolm’s nightmare to never let them crackas take you for your porridge like the 3 Bears and of course, they watchin’ him, only problem is he taught a lot of men, but they not stopping him assess the propaganda, process a proper gander philanthropic topics, unpopular in Atlanta so, fold bucks… smack ass cheek? Nah, whole butts trick women, tricks on you, you’re broke as fuck we peer reachers, y’all cheerleaders… toe touch leave the bleachers, you niggas divas, Gold Dust we Rock Maivia, either leave the ring or be the People’s Champ, regal Sméagol, light is a lamp so throw shade, it’s nothing, I’m predisposed to know thangs bout you negroes and how you leader-pose supposed to down-hold, but you misleading folks down dead end roads, plus they’re embedded with potholes I speak of hope, your speech is cloaked, I say, you joke! or maybe you just full of shit and need to be choked? neither… it was two of them, three, or maybe four accompanied by a sea of shook ones, maybe more a dignitary spoke, said “your obituary’s wrote we’re looting for your flow, you can shoot it out or go peaceful” but what they did not know is it was wrote written, powder-keg in house, wick lit, and… you can’t put it out, you won’t listen they still dialed Midland, your worlds ending the plot thicken! (hook) – b.ware Plot, scheme, scam is the tactics of the man get hot, use fans, stage a coup then scram you’re a sacrificial lamb, never stutter like flam taps rudimentary moves, make them understand that

(verse 1) – b.ware Back for the first time, most of y’all niggas ain’t never heard mine words, lines – cocaína, never compositions of scarlet letters… arbitrarily better my cocky doodles do wake up roosters with records who could be this selective? Fuse the sacred and secular fuck officials elected, cuh-cuz they don’t want the best for ya nothing can be expected, nuh-unh, kill the courageous messenger the people’s favorite Black patriot, the Medgar they grew up segregated, gated in neighborhoods thanks to civil rights leaders not thinkin’ bout the greater good brain food caterer, clean ya plate up, take more to go closed minds don’t get fed, open ya temporal lobe temperature cold, tempuras the goal timpani for dramatics and Tim Burton on the pay roll mold the schematics like it’s play-doh this for my niggas I grew up with out in Clay Co. (hook 1) – b.ware yo! The plot thickens! (think) the sand quicken! (sink) the tape skippin! Now niggas can’t listen! the whole hood terrified! They say he crazy… but never that he tellin’ lies! (verse 2) – b.ware niggas wanna fit in… I just wanted to roll like Hawaiian bread, you can tell that I been fed by scholars and the dope mane, like a lion head Detroit Red was brainwashed, he said, with lye in head perms lie in heads… some are flat iron pressed niggas ask am I impressed, I’m like for real? I like my girl natural, curly naps in heels …word to Lauryn and peace to Wale Folarin attention deficits and pessimists, I gotta exorcist but, Emily Rose flippin, I’m all about deliverance the bout is mental fitness, see Book of Job witness to winos and hoes, bros in prison collegiate niggas with degrees and back-fees to Sallie Mae, he spark a rally, take a head tally, ooh! them chickens flew the coup, they knew he wasn’t a spook who slept by the door, schemin’ on not being poor made up y’all beds but you fools choose to sleep on the flow and, oh! (hook 1) – b.ware (verse 3) – b.ware see, my habit of the heart was smart, built me an ark to sail to safety while watching the world fall apart just me and my skylark, her heart was Black as tar therefore she held a passion for my art the Lois to my Clark—the sun gave me my spark and when it fell dark, that was when hell would start we were old as time, yet separated in parts took vows to reunite in the future if we could beat Lucifer true enough as it was, the two of us were in Love but neither would budge, compromise, commit to us to trust, clutches on a grudge, both out of touch so recalibration is needed if we can be posturepedic carnage, Kasady Cletus, bitch and not my venus all stemming from what they teach us and they teach our teachers and the TV screens feed us, since we were fetuses but the fire-floods coming, baby, do it for our kids! (hook 1) – b.ware (hook 2) – b.ware the plot thickens, I got them smitten the tape rippin’, now niggas wanna listen we got them devils terrified, they goin’ crazy! the truth killin’ all the lies! (verse 4) – b.ware land… free… plan… flee… trust… deceit… sellout, no receipt ghetto… leave… no, stay… plant ya seed rebuild our families… make our own peace God… Allah… the difference? You decide pray, see the lies… Black man, reclaim ya bride sons… grow… learn… know… faith… lose it? Live like a coward, stupid Love… respect.. no fears, no regrets compassion—the test, pass it my people we’re next church… mosque… unify, take ya cross submit… fully… the devil will never fool me Elijah… Malcolm… Louis… how come Black scholars and leader hide them, well fuck y’all, I found them tape… cut… develop… us expand… mission… the plot… thickens

(verse 1) – b.ware One, two Its all image and respect which goon you see next limited to prison system cause he rep’d the streets best I guess… I hate the hands that hold me Mold me to a fiend, froze my goals and my dreams momma told me, its hard for a black man as I fraternized with trap-guys, practice for a bad life we so high, nose bleeds of pain Weak and decrepit veins i crept with my work the same We knew better, go light, featherweight but who's better: The drug king or the pusher on the scene? Hate the peddler, the fiend’s friend, but how’d it begin? the school's teaching us nothing plus the daddy's in the pen and the pusher of the pen got ya liking that lyin in raps to suburban as well as your hood, frat bruh… they on track for monetary benefits No Love for music, still runnin from crooked sin and shit I'm sending this for onlookers of innocence taken Shakin’ it, breakin’ up my patience some say it’s hatin’, makin’ it, the rules when I prove who can make it for sure pure, put it on your tongue, taste it (hook) – b.ware That’s that dope (dope) every note that he spoke (spoke) quote that he wrote, do that ink read hope? Take a toke… of the instrument of life Grown in the nursery, Pike… (verse 2) – b.ware I, nocturnal, written at 3:45 in the A.M., hit the kitchen for cream pies oatmeal, tote steal to the sink I’m talkin’ food and forks get ya mind outta that street life No swine, high blood pressure will get ya, right? it’s such stress… dealin’ with pigs outside Slide…thinkin’ of that Southside we used to ride Old Nat’ Listenin’ to King Cole… Nat, at Christmas time I miss them days, wish they’d re-arrive We witnessed fading innocence, misfits lit spliffs, pick cliques, click – BANG! Where they went? pause… waitin’ on Santa Claus but the instrument is a gift from God odd… how they used theirs to write laws to denature my my forefathers, martyrdom should I feel hatred for your fathers? they slaughtered them but maybe what about their sons though? lookin at my people wonderin why we still poor… and watch which dope you smoke… take a toke…

(verse 1) –b.ware my younger years… started with premonition parted with inhibitions, martyrs marked my mission charted my ambitions, listen dirty south, hear me shout b done cleaned up his livin’, my hunger is… to deliver like bile maker messages from creator, robotic like Robotnik with sonic speed, honestly, these tales save ya bare knuckles, we pound sound, turn your radio up fuck ratings, unh, we cater to niggas off Old Nat, they relate to my autobio see we poor, ask why, though, take off that blind fold four centuries-plus, and in ’09, in penitentiaries we stuck fetch answers, Fido, beyond that bible now who the fuck are you without that weed, greed, and a rifle? they say “he spiteful, b hates white folks!” but they ain’t concerned with that Black baby standin’ underneath that light pole in the middle of the night’s cold pitiful you won’t notice, should be playin’ Tyco riding tricycle, this place ain’t like no other muscular minded marksmen with gats plastic like Tupperware I mean they brains brawn like Klingon taught to bang on one another, the self-destructor yeah, it’s end of day, Cudder… no moon prayin’ my niggas understand they brother, unh! (hook 1) – b.ware Fox kids, fox kids from the ‘dale to the Park, we’re never monogamous unless you talkin the A, then aye, we all this it’s Black theater, and we’re the fox kids (fox kids) fox kids, we are fox kids from the ‘dale to the Park, we’re never monogamous unless you talkin the A, then aye, we all this it’s Black theater, and we’re the fox kids (verse 2) - NoTiQ Bass in it, treble out Meddle in, home I was settled in Burbs, I did better in When food was the medicine Injected thru residence It all takes precedence So here we are So SFR radio free roscoe It all comes down to a mantra Albany to Cobb co Hone my heart like a Mary Shelley novel Nigga, I’ma monster Caffeine drink, tonka My theme is to conquer Mezzanine view Ery’ting red cut, pray your arteries blue Aint no play play familia Ain’t shit familiar To old folks in shanty towns Negligence, spread around me I’m so media raised in bright lights Engaged to a cage, ATLien insight So bourgeoisie and broke Photogs amongst the web Shun niggas down Chasin the white tip upon its tail Peachtree nigga (hook 2) - NoTiQ Fox Kids, Fox Kids Franklin Rd to Vinnings, subpar to privileged I-75 259 I script (uh) I’m scraped from Albany, Who I’m is Yuh Fox Kids, Fox Kids Franklin Rd to Vinnings, subpar to privileged I-75 259 I script (uh) I’m scraped from Albany, Who I’m is (verse 3) – b.ware yeah treble back in the buildin’, maven of millions Gaye, Save The Children… scalping you pilgrims me and my Haliwa Saponi homie, what’s goin’ on? this the last straw, or rigatoni for fuckin’ phonies you wanna buck? Phone me, I’ll toss a couple dollars but in this economy that won’t cover your hospital fees I’m playin’, we southern, so you know it’s hospitable, b lay your head, Grady got extra beds, Lupe say “Go To Sleep” prop up ya feet, I’ll apply the I.V. that’s ill verse, I’ll spit’em a few, two… three nurse, administer shots from the toolie full of ink, fool, think, this that word wizardry and I be, zone 3 SWATS team, CP Atlanta bama, no manners, never pee where the stool be bar-hoppin’ for stool pigeons, pull up a seat and the south still got somethin’ to say, 3-Stacks I balance beam… clean! (hook 1) –b.ware (verse 4) – b.ware yeah, let me get it back… Atlanta, this is the red tape annals, been dreamin’ shit since me and sis wee spoonin’ Danimals, no means to get rich, well equipped my hands handled manuals, Malcolm exercised devils said they were cannibals in caves animalistic—understatement, the way you beat Black bodies and brainwashed with hatred, a fan of yourself, solely supposedly superior, taught we to have fear of ya so much so, I’d shoot my fuckin’ brother ‘fore I think of ya that deep enough? Weaker stuff get ex-communicated he’s Black patriot of his city, communicate with the bottom, asylum dwellers, silent former felons and war veterans, Hurt Park is they new settlement niggas steadily peddle, white teens do portabellas bumpin heavy metal but this is the Black ghetto this ain’t that place Melrose another rose from concrete, flaunting my petals Pete, fix my levels… Sugar-Free…

(hook 1) - b.ware Slave to the rhythm, unpaid, put my bid in walk alone, so i bid them farewell and the page is the prison for the rage that was given from the pain that we feelin, which i tell... (verse 1) - b.ware omit nada fed from the food of our crib, plus the pork of the pigs, dig? to get caught up in crookery, red meat lines the stomach killing the good of the kids of fathers, abandoned pops never knew Brandon but Pac did cuz he bothered to converse through the hurt modified this soon-to-be martyr was my curse a gift from God very odd, ironic, oxymoronic, even chronic seasons 365 where i lurk the lessons, though i peeped them, sowing all the reapings reaper creepin' to see ya under earth what, will i learn first? before them church bells get to ringing cuz them goons perched, looming doom impeding see what holds true worth, what i'm supposed to do first walls closing in on you, i can't Samson... repeating, pops never knew Brandon, props neither as for Shakur? a teacher feeder on the flesh of the text of our leaders i was greater, truth, never fiction like Al-Qaeda we don't believe you! (hook 2) - b.ware i be the slave to the rhythm unpaid put my bid in left home, had to bid them farewell and the page became the prison for the rage that was given from the pain that we feelin, which i tell (verse 2) - b.ware creating understanding through conversations with Pooh held close, i save for you, indubitable word for the news i spew shout out to Mercer U., salute to the students who supported through those that abhorred been shorted, some snored and snorted that was my fuel, my boost, or my gummy beary juice never to fall again this music i do is my ball and chain, unh! the bull whip, my welts, but none shall i fear they want me hung from the snare and sprawled in shame i crawled from underneath the bang of the beat free-base, meanin' my release gave me strength for the weak so they call and i came, high octane more tame like the Tyson Cus D'Amato trained and so i live through my peeps, locked in the pen with my speech behind the bars i maintain mane... slave (hook 3) - b.ware i am the slave to the rhythm, unpaid, put my bid in now i'm gone so i bid you farewell and the page is the prison for the rage that was given from the pain that we feelin... i gotta tell (talking) - b.ware let me clarify for you niggas what i mean when i say slave... this ain't no mentality shit, it's serving the people. when you do that you tell all. no holding back... (verse 3) - b.ware I think i'm Rakim Allah let the rhytm hit'em, if the music useful, they winnin' oozin' through every tendon, you'll lose it too, just listen it's that tension in'em, censor us, niggas erupt i cuss cuz i'm in touch with what it's like when life's fucked my Adel lady said, bay, they need to hear it don't let your inner-fear and shit, be your interference and that's an integral tip when cyclical living could bring our ending the final hours ending, no OT so we dodge Opie, Andy and Barney Fife, i've seen harder nights audited the audio, altered it for my awkward hype had a nigga shook like Drake without 40, day and night now i know i'm God-sent, survived rain 40 days and nights b and Christ be quite alike, tempted 40 days and nights plus i serve the poor who guzzle 40's day and night that's 80 days of pain, no engineer in sight and a bum liver nigga, b.ware i'm nothin' nice call me (hook 4) - b.ware the slave to the rhythm, everyday, put my bid in fuck a throne, tell a critic go to hell cuz the page is my prison from the rage that we live in from the pain that my niggas feelin... i'll always tell (outro) - b.ware this for my Black Nation, avoiding the Perry Mason and that long vacation... for my college fam, hoping to get that plot of land, remember the common man this for my lady sippin' crushed grapes, listening to that red tape cut the red tape... cut that red tape... yeah...

just listen y'all... no reading. just listen.

STAY WOKE! This blood gone remake me miss Love, we hate we This thug woke up early grave dug while you were sleep STAY WOKE!