Lyrics Hereditary - Ransom

Hereditary

I who always who the way the pallbearer, long before the rigors of college
But the most famous advice with how the streets named in our honor
Martin Luther King Drive and Malcolm X Boulevard
Both debunk the myth of respectability and bruise that no matter the politics
All black boys are doomed to die by bullets, but how could you complain
We demand justice for Breonna and George, I pray that you rest well
When I was locked, I witnessed a murder right in the next cll
The COs beat that brother to dath for smuggling nextails
Killed him while he was cuffed and I bet that made all their chests well
Elderberries with fresh kale, immune to your viruses that infect males
In tune with the Bible and all its possessed spells
No need to touch Hell, we felt the brother’s pain
He was suffocated with knee, now the country’s waiting to exhale
I’m even killed without being killed
I demand respect and I won’t leave until
I’ma bet on black like I was Stephen Hill
Living in them shacks and thinking we should kill
Now they say it’s cap, you thinking we should kneel
How they held us back will be a secret still
You don’t hear them screeching wheels
You don’t hear them shots fire, firearm I keep concealed
Plantation cops hired, they’re here to police the field
American dream, you sleeping if you believe it’s real
How you think my people feel?
We ain’t dodging bullets ‘cause we’re seeking thrills
I done seen some shit that’ll make a preacher squeal
They say that we’re sick because the streets is ill
Heart is cold enough to give the reaper chills
Everything I speak surreal
Record labels, keep your deal
I just told my momma she don’t need them pills
Screaming, «fuck Your Honor, we don’t need appeals»
Speaking of pills, I need to speak to Bill
How could you hurt your wife?
He serving life, I need to see Camille
Modern day warfare, they’re trying to kill us off here
Them days that we all feared, they say life ain’t all fair
Shoutout to Jemele Hill, the haters took her off air
But now we know that Hell’s real because my people all here
Shit that I’d be forced to write, I’m in the mind of Kobe before his flight
Was he nervous?
Was he relaxed?
Did he think to call his wife?
Was it service?
Did she collapse when she heard he lost his life?
What a circus, media traps, just try to ignore the hype
Somebody had to wipe the blood up off the cross of Christ
Somebody had to tell Martin King he was forced to fight
Somebody had to teach Ray to play when he lost his sight
Life is quick, the words of a Malcolm X on a Harlem night
(Goddamn), I’m just saying I’ll do the dirty work
Never trust the word from a fiend’s mouth on the 31st
You ever seen a preacher with Cadillacs in a dirty church?
Think we deserve this curse?
Know where you heard this first
«Be my victim»