Mortal Man

The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin'

Let these words be your Earth and Moon, you consume every message

As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression

And with that being said, my ****, let me ask this question

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

When shit hit the fan—

One-two, one-two, one-two, one-two

Uh, when shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin'

Let these words be your Earth and Moon, you consume every message

As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression

And with that being said, my ****, let me ask this question

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

Won't you look to your left and right? Make sure you ask your friends

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

Do you believe in me? Are you deceiving me?

Could I let you down easily, is your heart where it need to be?

Is your smile on permanent? Is your vow on lifetime?

Would you know where the sermon is if I died in this next line?

If I'm tried in a court of law, if the industry cut me off

If the government want me dead, plant cocaine in my car

Would you judge me a drug kid, or see me as K. Lamar?

Or question my character and degrade me on every blog?

Want you to love me like Nelson, want you to hug me like Nelson

I freed you from being a slave in your mind, you're very welcome

You tell me my song is more than a song, it's surely a blessing

But a prophet ain't a prophet till they ask you this question

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

Won't you look to your left and right? Make sure you ask your friends

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin'

Let these word be your Earth and Moon, you consume every message

As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression

And with that

Do you believe in me? How much you believe in her?

You think she gon' stick around if them twenty-five years occur?

You think he can hold you down when you down behind bars, hurt?

You think y'all on common ground if you promise to be the first?

Can you be immortalized without your life being expired?

Even though you share the same blood, is it worth the time?

Like who got your best interest? Like how much are you dependent?

How clutch are the people that say they love you and who pretending?

How tough is your skin when they turn you in, do you show forgiveness?

What brush do you bend when dusting your shoulders from being offended

What kind of den did they put you in when the lions start hissing?

What kind of bridge did they burn? Revenge on your mind when it's mentioned

You wanna love like Nelson, you wanna be like Nelson

You wanna walk in his shoes, but you're peace-making seldom

You wanna be remembered, that delivered the message

That considered the blessing of everyone, this your lesson for everyone, say

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

Won't you look to your left and right? Make sure you ask your friends

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

The voice of Mandela, hope this flow stay propellin'

Let my word be your Earth and Moon, you consume every message

As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression

And if you ridin' with me, ****

I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issues

I hold grudges like bad judges, don't let me resent you

That's not Nelson-like, want you to love me like Nelson

I went to Robben's Island, analyzing, that's where his cell is

So I could find clarity, like how much you cherish me?

Is this relationship a fake, or real as the heavens be?

See I got to question it all, family, friends, fans, cats, dogs

Trees, plants, grass, how the wind blow

Murphy's Law, Generation X, will I ever be your ex?

Flaws of a baby step, mauled by the mouth of pit bulls

Put me under stress, crawled under rocks, ducking y'all

It's respect, but then tomorrow, put my back against the wall

How many leaders you said you needed, then left 'em for dead?

Is it Moses? Is it Huey Newton or Detroit Red?

Is it Martin Luther? JFK? Shooter, you assassin

Is it Jackie? Is it Jesse? Oh, I know, it's Michael Jackson, oh

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

That **** gave us Billie Jean, you say he touched those kids?

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?

The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin'

Let my word be your Earth and Moon, you consume every message

As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression

And if you riding with me, ****, let me ask this question, ****

I remember you was conflicted

Misusing your influence

Sometimes I did the same

Abusing my power, full of resentment

Resentment that turned into a deep depression

Found myself screaming in the hotel room

I didn't wanna self destruct

The evils of Lucy was all around me

So I went running for answers

Until I came home

But that didn't stop survivor's guilt

Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned

Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was

But while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city

I was entering a new one

A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination

Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned

The word was respect

Just because you wore a different gang color than mines

Doesn't mean I can't respect you as a Black man

Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets

If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us

But I don't know, I'm no mortal man, maybe I'm just another ****

Shit, and that's all I wrote

I was gonna call it "Another ****," but it ain't really a poem

I just felt like it's something you probably could relate to

Other than that, now that I finally got a chance to holla at you

I always wanted to ask you about a certain situa-

About a metaphor actually, uh, you spoke on the ground

What you mean by that? What the ground represent?

The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil

Right

That's how I see it, my word is bond

I see, and the ground is the symbol for the poor people

Right

The poor people is gonna open up this whole world

And swallow up the rich people

'Cause the rich people gonna be so fat

Mmm

And they gonna be so appetizing

You know what I'm saying? Wealthy, appetizing

Right

The poor gonna be so poor and hungry

Right

You know what I'm saying it's gonna be like

You know what I'm saying it's gonna be-

There might, there might be some cannibalism out this muthafu–, they might eat the rich

Know what I'm saying?

Aight, so let, let me ask you this then

Do you see yourself as somebody that's rich

Or somebody that made the best of their own opportunities?

I see myself as a natural born hustler

A true hustler in every sense of the word, I took nothin'

I took the opportunities, I worked at the, the most menial and degrading job

And built myself up so I could get it to where I owned it

Uh, I went from having somebody manage me

To me hiring the person that works my management company

Right

I changed everything, I realized my destiny in a matter of five years

You know what I'm saying? I made myself a millionaire

Right

I made, I made millions for a lot of people, now it's time to make millions for myself

You know what I'm saying?

I made millions for the record companies

Mm-hmm

I made millions for these movie companies, now I make millions for, for us

Mmm, and through your different avenues of success

How would you say you managed to keep a level of sanity?

By my faith in God, by my faith in the game

And by my faith in all g-, all good things come to those that stay true

Right

You know what I'm saying? And, and, and it, it was happening to me for a reason

You know what I'm saying? I was noticing, shit

I was, I was punching the right buttons and it was happening

So it's no problem, you know, I mean it's a problem but I'm not finna let them know

Hmm

I'm finna go straight through

Would you consider yourself a, a fighter at heart

Or somebody that, somebody that only reacts when they back is against the wall?

Shit, I like to think that at every opportunity

I've ever been, uh, threatened with resistance, that it's been met with resistance

And not only me, but it goes down my family tree

You know what I'm saying? It's in my veins to fight back

Aight, well, how long will you think it take before **** be like

We fighting a war, I'm fighting a war I can't win and I wanna lay it all down?

In this country, a Black man only have like five years we can exhibit maximum strength

And that's right now while you a teenager

While you still strong, while you still wanna lift weights

While you still wanna shoot back

'Cause once you turn thirty, it's like they take the heart and soul out of a man

Out of a Black man in this country

And you don't wanna fight no more

And if you don't believe me, you can look around

You don't see no loud mouth thirty-year old muthafuckas

That's crazy because me being one of your offsprings of, of the legacy you left behind

I can truly tell you that there's nothing but turmoil goin' on

So I wanted to ask you, what you think is the future for me and my generation today?

I think that **** is tired of grabbin' shit out the stores

And next time it's a riot it's gonna be like, uh, bloodshed for real

I don't think America know that

I think America think we was just playing and it's gonna be some more playing

But it ain't gonna be no playing

It's gonna be murder, you know what I'm saying

It's gonna be like, like Nat Turner, 1831 up in this muthafucka

You know what I'm saying? It's gon', it's gonna happen

Mm-hmm

That's crazy, man

In my opinion, only hope that we kinda have left

Is music and, and vibrations

Lot of people don't understand how important it is

You know, sometimes I can like, get behind a mic

And I don't know what type of energy I'ma push out

Or where it comes from

Trip me out sometimes

Because the spirits, we ain't even really rappin'

We just letting our dead homies tell stories for us

Damn

I wanted to read one last thing to you

It's actually something a good friend had wrote describing my world

It says

"The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it

Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it

In order to protect itself from this mad city

While consuming its environment, the caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive

One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him, but praises the butterfly

The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillar

But having a harsh outlook on life, the caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak

And figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits

Already surrounded by this mad city

The caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon, which institutionalizes him

He can no longer see past his own thoughts

He's trapped

While trapped inside these walls, certain ideas take roots

Such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city

The result?

Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant

Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations

That the caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle

Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different

They are one and the same"

What's your perspective on that?

Pac? Pac?

Pac?