if the meek shall inherit the earth
|
and not the weak
|
let me inherit the street, fuck it
|
you know what I mean?
|
I mean I love life man, you know what I mean
|
life is beautiful, it's just the shit in it that's fucked up
|
it's rough but it's fair
|
people gotta go out there and bust they, bust they ass for a job
|
I mean, my dad's got five kids, man and I mean yo
|
he hates drivin' a bus but he loves five kids
|
you feel me?
|
|
I'm a rhyme artist
|
out here tryin' to grind my hardest
|
up early so to milk the cow
|
keep my john deere out here plowin' the fields
|
to keep my john hancock's worth up in the now
|
went from hangin' on blocks to hangin' on charts
|
positions is parta my mission to hangin' on top
|
gotta get your polly cracker or with them crackers
|
and them scheisty ass niggaz if you like it or not
|
I've been rewired to work more efficiently in the dirt
|
I'm hands on with it all up in my cuticles
|
some try to get off the farm but fell into harm
|
of gettin in the game of those street pharmaceuticals
|
but, I was raised in those blue collar themes
|
havin' white collar dreams cause I see what it means
|
and though the meek shall inherit the earth but don't forget
|
the poor are the ones who inherit the debt
|
you can bet I got better things to do than that
|
I was a dick who got jerked by Tom and his boys
|
came on my land, seized my cattle, and catalog
|
as if it wouldn't leave me less than coy
|
but I'm far from bitter even farther from quittin'
|
got a grind date to make, no time for sittin'
|
and playin' xbox, stand up and exercise my rights
|
as of by seen of through Bob Nestor's eyes
|
it's the grind date
|
know what I'm sayin? I'm sick of askin' that
|
I mean, the street philosophy is that
|
I'm gonna milk the cow and cook the meat
|
|
at least I'm gonna have some kind of food and drink
|
because sometimes you can't come back
|
like momma said that if you need 5 cents don't ask for 3
|
ask for 10, that's for sure
|
Yo fuck a rhyme artist, I ain't here for that
|
I was born with the boom bap, respect the name
|
my hands on experience was hands on my first contract
|
taught me quick how to respect the game
|
introduced to the block, got used to the block
|
but your neighbors be the ones who throw shit on your lawn
|
it's like every single time we pop, they got annoyed
|
but we got ahead, and we got along
|
and puttin' work on the calendars, worse on them calendars
|
worth of hump days that broke the camel's back
|
the grind'll make today look gray
|
and paint a tainted picture of tomorrows in enamel black
|
meet the rhyme, street grind, son whatever the beast
|
I'm a take it at the horns till the pinky toe torn
|
and show you why we here this long
|
cause when it comes to puttin' in work
|
once again it's on
|
I'm just like everybody else man
|
an average nigga with above average potential
|
you know what I mean? I'm not sayin' that I'm a gentleman
|
I'm sayin that I know how to act like a gentleman
|
in order to get the things that I need
|
and if I gotta pull out my nickle bag, I'm gonna do that
|
This ain't no accident, we stayin' here
|
You damn right I am proud of myself man
|
and I'm proud of my team man
|
I don't want you to get the wrong, yo baby on the real?
|
I don't have sex with people I do business with neither
|
and that's the real
|
but I do do business with people that I have sex with
|
so if there ain't no conflict, let's get this grind on
|
cause I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you, that's word
|
|
-----------------
|
The Grind Date
|
De La Soul |