Текст песни Exhibit C - Jay Electronica

Exhibit C

Hey!
It’s coming
Ladies and gentlemen; this time around
The revolution will not be televised
Woo! As we proceed!
To give you what you need!
'09, mother—!
Get live, mother—!
Ladies and gentlemen of the court
In the hearing against The State of Hip-Hop vs. Jay Electronica
I present: Exhibit C
When I was sleepin' on the train
Sleepin' on Meserole Ave out in the rain
Without even a single slice of pizza to my name
Too proud to beg for change, mastering the pain
When New York niggas was calling southern rappers lame
But then jacking our slang (Oh!)
I used to get dizzy spells, hear a little ring
The voice of an angel telling me my name
Telling me that one day I’ma be a great mane
Transforming with the Megatron Don, spittin' out flames (Oh!)
Eating wack rappers alive, shittin' out chains (Woo!)
I ain’t believe it then; nigga, I was homeless (Uh huh)
Fightin', shootin' dice, smokin' weed on the corners
Trying to find the meaning of life in a Corona
'Til the Five Percenters rolled up on a nigga and informed him:
«You either build or destroy, where you come from?»
«The Magnolia projects in the 3rd Ward slum»
«Hmm, it’s quite amazing that you rhyme how you do
And that you shine like you grew up in a shrine in Peru» (Ooh!)
Question Fourteen, Muslim Lesson Two:
Dip-dive-uh, civilize a eighty-five-uh
I make the devil hit his knees and say the «Our Father»
Abracadabra, you rocking with the true and living
Shout out to Lights Out, Joseph I, Chewy Bivens
Shout out to Baltimore, Baton Rouge, my crew in Richmond
While y’all debated who the truth was like Jews and Christians
I was on Cecil B., Broad Street, Master
North Philly, South Philly, 23rd, Tasker
Six Mile, Seven Mile, Hartwell, Gratiot (Oh!)
Where niggas really would pack a U-Haul truck up
Put the high beams on, drive up on the curb
At a barbecue and hop up out the back like, «What's up?» (Buh!)
Kill a nigga, rob a nigga, take a nigga, bust up
That’s why when you talk the tough talk, I never feel you
You sound real good and you play the part well
But the energy you givin' off is so unfamiliar
I don’t feel ya (We need somethin' realer! Ooh!)
Nas hit me up on the phone, said «What you waitin' on?»
Tip hit me up with a tweet, said, «What you waitin' on?»
Diddy send a text every hour on the dot saying
«When you gon' drop that verse? Nigga, you taking long»
So now I’m back spittin' that heat, could pass a polygraph
That Reverend Run rockin' Adidas out on Hollis Ave
That FOI, Marcus Garvey, Nikky Tesla
I shock you like an eel, electric feel, Jay Electra
Oh my God! Keep going!
They call me Jay Electronica—fuck that
Call me Jay Elec-Hanukkah, Jay Elec-Yarmulke
Jay Elect-Ramadan, Muhammad as-salaam-alaikum
RasoulAllah Subhanahu wa ta’ala through your monitor (Ooh!)
My Uzi still weigh a ton; check the barometer
I’m hotter than the motherfucking sun; check the thermometer
I’m bringing ancient mathematics back to modern man
My mama told me, «Never throw a stone and hide your hand»
I got a lot of family, you got a lot of fans
That’s why the people got my back like the Verizon man
I play the back and fade to black, and then devise a plan
Out in London, smoking, vibing while I ride the tram
Giving out that raw food to lions disguised as lambs
And—by the time they get they seats hot
And deploy all they henchmen to come at me from the treetops
I’m chillin' out at Tweetstock, building by the millions
My light is brilliant
Woooo!
I rest my case
'09, Act 3
First chapter of the end
The last chapter of a new beginning
If it’s so
The things we do without even trying…
Be better than a lot of y’all records, don’t get mad
Morning after, world premiere
Me!
For real, though?
I ain’t even gon' say nothing
Matter of fact; I ain’t saying—
I don’t even know why I’m sayin' this
Jay, you should get Puff to do this over
We moving out, onto the next record
And, um, I’ma let this just ride
Ride, ride, ride
Hahaha