| On January 17th 1961
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| I was beaten then tortured then murdered by guns
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| (Who am I?)
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| The firing squad, The CIA, the Mi6, the Belgians were in on it
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| (Who am I?)
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| Mubutu too tried to kill the cause by killing me silly see Because the flesh
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| dies only to set the soul free
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| And it landed in this MC manifest destiny but only for the Africans
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| The salt of the earth the father of man they gave a cross then They took the
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| land
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| (Who am I?)
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| As long Belgians continued to mine
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| Then I guess the DRC was fine
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| No its not
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| (Who am I?)
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| (copper, and zinc tin and coal and don’t forget diamond and gold)
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| (Who am I?)
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| My body dip in acid
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| All for greed and I just wanted them to leave
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| (Who am I?)
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| The United Nations turned their backs while the Europeans cleansed the blacks
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| (Who am I?)
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| The Soviet Union wanted to assist
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| But the USA just labeled me a communist
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| (Who am I?)
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| Pan African, pro people, prolific against evil
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| Whether it comes through war or peace
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| Please remember my name — it’s Patrice, Lamumba
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| Tell me what u working with
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| I’m ready to assault this track before I murder it
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| Cuz I use words to purge my aggression I suggest you avoid becoming a victim of
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| my murmurings
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| I get my big words from my mama Nem
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| She taught me how to read and ever since I’ve had a yearn for them
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| And that’s how this shy girl can talk shit and stay clean, excuse my foul mouth
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| I slip up and say things in rap life that real life can’t seem to handle
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| Like how I’m a better rapper than u and all your family
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| And I’ll verbally slap you all around a few rounds until you king me the
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| greatest of the space/time continuum
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| See great writers made me
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| Not Jay-Z but Langston
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| I’m still trying digest a dream deferred
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| And every time I put my pen down to paper I imagine saving babies from a bitter
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| life in a heinous world
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| But they don’t wanna hear the pain just the glory
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| And they don’t wanna take the blame just change the gist of the story
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| And they’ll take me as a trophy but not as MVP
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| Cuz they don’t wanna admit it but they envy me
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| I’ll tell u why because these hips and thighs created life in 7 days
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| And I can take it all away with just 1 verse spit in 7 ways
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| And the control u think u hold over me?
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| Guess what it’s obsolete
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| I copped a beat and laid heat like burnt edges
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| Play me? |
| You’ll pay me
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| My 16s like vendettas
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| This rap dope but truth told I been better
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| Just a prelude to deluge of poetic justice
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| No box braids I cock aim and blow brains with all my substance
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| I don’t need witticisms to make a hitter and I don’t need sports references to
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| make my lyrics any clearer
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| Eff Jordan, I’m rolling with zora, cuz my eyes been watching god since I first
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| looked in the mirror
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| And dare I say it that I’m a conscious entertainer? |
| my confidence in my craft
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| makes me comfortable with the label
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| But… I defy all conventions, my unorthodox behavior makes me garner your
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| attention like a peep show
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| The exposure keeps you riveted in place you’re conflicted I’m the illest but u
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| can’t let em know u think so
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| Acceptance is the last stage of grief so I’ll keep the peace
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| I’ll let u have your moment fore I make you take a knee
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| And savor each and every piece that I secrete from me
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| Contrary to pop opinion, we ain’t created equally
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| See, That my friend would require me to be human
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| I’m an alien, an outcast, a pillar in a land of ruin |