Four Better or Worse, Pt.3

"Penitentiaries filling us, preachers faking they’re healing us

The hell in us is telling us gun’s our saviour, helping us

Harriet’s my prophet but y’all can ignore the messages

And pray to every god that wasn’t made for the rest of us

Black was never in the cold, the bodies generated soul

Got my eyes stuck on it like looking at a centrefold

Bullets verse the intellect, sword not mighty as the pen

Then again, you gotta know when dealing with the sinnermen

I don’t do this for the top spin, this isn’t Wimbledon

I do it for the Trayvons, Tamirs and fuck the Zimmermans

I do it for the Floyds, Amads, and their remembrance

Sometimes I’m so annoyed but then I get my vengeance in

A **** who can read exceeds speeds at ease

Beyond weeds my high can float the seven seas

Drain honey from any bees while in the garden of Eden

Spark up your memories from lives you can believe

Geez, and still keep cool throughout the streets

It’s a metronome, a pulse, a motherfucking beat"