2,054,058 Pages

Epilogue: Long Jawn

This song is by Shad and appears on the album Flying Colours (2013).

But really I'm sick of rapping, but really I miss the passion
You feel me, I miss the scene, you feel me, I miss the action
I miss touring, miss America, miss the pageant
I'm still married to that dame though the game is Mrs. Jackson to me
Rappers love talking this epic
When we talk of our exit from showbiz and nobody noticed we left it
Was hedging bets at the school of Texas, hold them Rolexes
And Lexuses, just a second, I got a test, but I'm blessed
I got to live and learn, literally, did a term
Then went to gig and earn, urn, just let it burn
Words I could grow-op, no, I don't mean grow pot
I mean getting that dope though, I still gotta grow lots
Live real stories, grow plots, they wanted more crops
And grow guap and you find some botox, robots to co-op
But y'all know me, don't stop, I just go off
I stay on point for the heads, this cut's a mohawk, uh
For heads that's headstrong, uh, and heads with dreads on
And white corn rows although that's dead wrong
But listen, this is all inclusive, for all humans, just for y'all amusement
Music for the blue-collared dudes and all the college students
I'm Paul Wall in '05 and I'm car pollution
And I'm James Harden hooping, all meaning I'm a problem Houston
A constant nuisance, I cause confusion
Hold on, this song's as long as the constitution
It's just that I've got a lot of thoughts that are hard to explain
I'm trying to try a little tender but I'm hard in the brain
Hard headed thoughts darkened and charred in the flame
I'm talking black, pardon the slang
But the flame is like Flocka, young man always gotta go hard in the paint
We talk foul on offensive, they call charge in the game
But even activists targeting Targets and chain stores
They get chained to the same war, same arms taking aim
Arm leg leg arm head, we all the same
One race feeling safe when we start in our lanes
On our march till that gun spark, reminds us of young scars
Makes us all start to run, far from the pain
So we take off and we hide and we harbor the shame
And as we grow older, damn, it only gets harder to change
It's getting heavy, I don't wanna let my people down
I'll fight with evil within until I'm beneath the ground
Sleeping sound, that's my deepest vow
Till I take my deepest bow, I'll keep reaching out through these speakers
Now, Gary told me my album should be called "Food Court"
'Cause I only talk about food, justice, and hoop scores
Put on my Jordan's this morning without a shoe horn
Played a couple games, then debated the use of brute force
Versus new forms of abuse to make us produce more
Over cold pizza and a lukewarm 2-4
The poor gotta eat, so like first ball we shoot for it
I'm just trying to remember that life is too short
Every second's precious, let's stay up like due north of New York
Where my homegirl is trying to quit with the Newport's
And my dude's trying to keep the food portions down to two courses
I'm trying to build with a lady and maybe move towards forming a team
That's my last reference to sports
I promise I'm through, these women are getting too bored
Calling this dude-core

Hold-on, uh
Just keep it going

Yeah, the last time I was rocking this
I was rocking in a Diamond tee
Rhyming like Rawkus would sign him
But dreaming of rocking that diamond, Roc-A-Fella
Before Barack was presiding over the oval office to go to Iraq
I was grinding and I still love it, up in front of the public
Juggling subjects in couplets, it's funny my stomach plummets
Right before every time but then I'm fine once them drums hit
Drum sticks in buckets, backstage with subway Subwiches
Man I'm lucky as what, this what I do for the ducats
No soul sucking for pay stubs I'm nobody's puppet
Now I'm buzzing 'cause this stuff is in my blood like an IV
But just 'cause I love it, it's not my ID
I mean I'm wrapped in these rhyme schemes
And I rap to define me but rap doesn't define me
Trust that I'll be fine when the shine leaves
Dudes used to say, "would you rhyme please?!"
They had to push me to start like they couldn't find keys
Now I'm regarded the most rewinded Rwandese
London-born but not that one renowned for the grime scene

Uh, yeah
Check it out!

I'm sending this one to my fam and my old friends
And fans that follow all the tweets that I don't send
My man G's on the net, no goaltend
My plan B I just left, 'cause I goes in
I'm into 30 for 30 docs and 30 Rock
Why? 'Cause I'm 30 and 'cause I'm kinda of a nerdy jock
I remember before Jigga made 30 hot
And I still front on Justin a little 'cause of that dirty pop
I had CeeLo on cassette back when he would rap
Sitting up in my room with that Moesha track
That was back when North America made cars
Now inner cities look like outer space, we only make stars
I remember we didn't care when we ate carbs
I remember dreaming of that day we would take charge
I'm seeing the seeds of future change right now in the present
As we work in our fields here grounding the message
In real life lessons, getting right down to the essence
Then we water that like a fountain when we're counting our blessings
Sharing the hope of our hearts and the doubts and the questions
See the seeds sprout into trees that leave thousands of fresh ones
Haven't got there yet but I've found some direction
I'm not a catholic but these tracks is the sound of confession
It's like I said 'em then heaven sent down a post card
Over a large ocean of doubt via Coast Guardian angel to say we're ok
We've all broke hearts, groped parts, fought and hurt, drank and smoked darts
We're all victims, we're all innocent, no charge
You're free to be who you are, now go and don't harm
The world's so starved for you being unique
That's cliche but it often is with the truth, see
It's nothing too deep and it's nothing new, we all knew it as youth
Seems we just forgot as soon as we grew a few feet
That's why I like to say remember to remember
That's why I like to play my fingers on that Fender
And that's why I write and play to try to find the light of day
In these dark winter nights and bravely bring it to the centre
Still some say it's hood nonsense, no good conscience
They got it twisted, it's hood conscious and good nonsense
But check the comments, some supporters got enough hate
Some fans don't post "I love Shad" they just say "F... Drake"
I got no problems with Drizzy of course
I'm not vexed, I can't cop what Drizzy affords
I'm all good, I even got to give to the poor
And TO knows I'm like a Benz in the city of Fords (Rob)
I'm thinking they're bored with the backpacking like, "is he done yet?"
They waiting on that hit like Phil Collins with the drum set
In the air tonight, I'm heavy as two tonnes, heads
Sleeping on the kid, I'm breaking down they bunk beds
And raising hell like Rev Run said
Watch him stalk his prey and walk this way slow as the undead
I keep it 100 till sunset, till there's not one breath in my lungs left
The undisputed number one-esque
Nah this is a new act called sinner and saint
Where the singer covers inner pain with glitter and paint
And delivers his statements with wit and with vigour and haste
They say the entertainer's like Cedric, except thinner and great
I'm playing, I'm not a comedy king
Obviously Rap fathered me sorta like Pop's rap on Common's Be
My policy's quality over quantity, real...

Ah, hmm
Almost had it, almost had it

My policy's quality over quantity
Real girls over drama queens, real world over college dean
Philosophies honesty over shock, real thoughts over knocking beats
Real talk, it's over when I drop the beat

Yeah, that's good

External links

Community content is available under Copyright unless otherwise noted.