| All my people |
| Come and walk with me |
| See the things I’ve seen |
| On the underground railroad |
| Seen talented rappers with music coming out their pores |
| Reduced to nothing more than chalk lines on a floor |
| Because a double life’s a troubled life |
| And we don’t know no other type |
| It’s just us blind holding scales and a corded mic |
| Flow so underground sounds traveling through the water pipes |
| Still I keep striving some ain’t surviving |
| Holding mothers in tears because there sons ain’t rising |
| Gears in a machine of not stop grinding |
| For whips, chains, slaves to the ‘caine |
| Ain’t nobody playing but we calling it the game |
| Don’t confuse it with music because your name will get you slain |
| And this rap shits a tactic to flip a little change |
| I got to go harder to show my seeds a way |
| Teach them while they grow how not to throw their dreams away |
| This railroad track led me straight to the A |
| But my local motives always smoking in the K |
| Now I’ve seen the scene just in between blowing up and quitting |
| Obscene the things I’m weaning from addicted to a living |
| Posted like a poster on the wall in one position |
| Pieces of my soul become the coal that fuels my engine |
| Steaming round the land to foreign fans that want to listen |
| In Sweden going hard in England going hard |
| Through Switzerland where border guards try to pull your card |
| Fans in the thousands hearing screams and applause |
| Come home hustling still my fool time job |
| Because them screams and applause ain’t keep my lights on |
| Learned the world ain’t on your team because they’re singing your fight song |
| So I got to own the moment and hold it till I’m gone |
| I’ve been on these tracks and traveling for a while |
| Seen nigga dreams start unraveling over miles |
| Surrender in their eyes disguised by faint smiles |
| I might rest for a minute but nigga I’m never down |