Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Exhibit C - Instrumental, artist - Jay Electronica. Date of issue: 21.12.2009
Song language: English
Exhibit C - Instrumental |
| When I was sleeping on the train |
| Sleeping on Meserole Ave out in the rain |
| Without even a single slice of pizza to my name |
| Too proud to beg for change masterin' the pain |
| When New York niggas was calling southern rappers lame |
| But then jackin' our slang |
| I used to get dizzy spells, hear a little ring |
| The voice of a angel tellin' me my name |
| Tellin' me that one day I’m a be a great man |
| Transformin' with the MegatronDon spittin' out flames |
| Eatin' wack rappers alive shittin' out chains |
| I ain’t believe it then, nigga I was homeless |
| Fightin', shootin' dice, smokin' weed on the corners |
| Tryna find the meaning of life in a Corona |
| Till the Five Percenters rolled up on a nigga and informed him |
| «You either build or destroy, where you come from?» |
| «The Magnolia projects in the 3rd Ward slum» |
| «Hmm, it’s quite amazing that you rhyme how you do |
| And that you shine like you grew up in a shrine in Peru» |
| Question 14, Muslim lesson 2: Dip diver, civilize a 85er |
| I make the devil hit his knees and say the Our Father |
| Abracadabra! |
| You rockin' with the true and livin' |
| Shout out to Lights Out, Joseph I, Chewy Bivens, |
| Shout out to Baltimore, Baton Rouge, my crew in Richmond |
| While y’all debated who the truth was like Jews and Christians |
| I was on Cecil B, Broad Street, Master, North Philly, South Philly, 23rd, Tasker |
| 6 Mile, 7 Mile, Hartwell, Gratiot |
| Where niggas really would pack a U-Haul truck up |
| Put the high beams on |
| Drive up on the curb at a barbecue and hop up out the back like «what's up» |
| «Kill a nigga, rob a nigga, take a nigga, buss up» |
| That’s why when you talk that tough talk I never feel ya |
| You sound real good and you play the part well |
| But the energy you givin' off is so unfamiliar |
| I don’t feel ya |
| Nas hit me up on the phone said «what you waitin on» |
| Tip hit me up with a Twit said «what you waitin on» |
| Diddy send a text every hour on the dot sayin «when you gon drop that verse |
| nigga you takin long» |
| So now I’m back spittin that He could pass a polygraph |
| That Reverend Run rockin Addidas out on Hollis Ave |
| That F.O.I., Marcus Garvey, Nikki Tesla |
| I shock you like a eel, electric feel, Jay Electra |
| They call me Jay Electronica |
| Fuck that, call me Jay ElecHannukah |
| Jay ElecYarmulke |
| Jay ElectRamadan Muhammad Asalama’Aleykum Rasul’Allah subhana wa ta’Allah |
| through your monitor |
| My uzi still weigh a ton, check the barometer |
| I’m hotter then the mothafuckin' sun, check the thermometer |
| I’m bringing ancient mathematics back to modern man |
| My momma told me «never throw a stone and hide your hand» |
| I got a lot of family, you got a lot of fans |
| That’s why the people got my back like the Verizon man |
| I play the back and fade to black and then devise a plan |
| Out in London, smokin', vibin' while I ride the tram |
| Givin' out that raw food to lions disguised as lambs, |
| And, by the time they get they seats hot, |
| And deploy all they henchmen to come at me from the treetops, |
| I’m chillin' out at Tweetstock, |
| Building by the millions, |
| My light is brilliant |