good evening yall
im a tell yall a story
so I was walking around henhay park, right
sun was goin down, we gettin off of work late
and I run into this, this man, this old man, and he tells me
for my seeds well being, I declare war
hacienda louicita, I declare war
for the last five hundred years
been in a war to make sure that we never see five hundred (torn?)
I won't rest till my story been told
I won't rest till my story been told
come on
I won't rest till my story been told
what
I won't rest till my story been told
yo
the wicked try to justify to keep what they stole
it eats at their souls, guess they reap what they sow
competing with your brother for the love of the dough
but we know we own nothing so we claim it for show
who got the guns and the gold, who left us out in the cold
white wilderness I travel while im searching my own
its why I'm flippin a poem like it was written in stone
it's for the children seeking answers to the questions at home
this ain't no neo soul even though its subtle and slow
the political is personal you suckas should know
its why my body wont rest until my story been told
I wont rest until my stories have been told
now
I wrote the scroll flipped the script broke the mold
but my people ain't free we just sat on parole
my collection of records is for my son when he's grown
he'll appreciate the now when we call it the old
these Americans forgettin' that they live on a globe
the same planet as those left abandoned it droves
kept in bondage by the chain of a creditors loan
their money is like a bboy stance, it stays froze
I prose what the world decomposes to show
the conditions that's depicted up in "Hustle and Flow"
from drafted to casket these soldiers come home
my craft spit the magic off the top of the dome
I'm walkin alone, often get exhausted and blown
only six feet separate the coffin and throne
you cavemen insist on callin' sisters a ho
you aint equipped to paint a picture of the city I roam
around in circles on the back of metropolitan joe
rejectin' all your dogma keeps my karma in tow
provolone chasin pipe dream and people to blow
the created could never pay the creator what they owe
working 'til the bone cracks over timezones
push the pen to the paper nose to the grindstone
I won't rest until my story been told
I won't rest until my stories have been told
now
I wrote the scroll flipped the script broke the mold
one chapter closed but another unfolds
one chapter closed but another unfolds
said one chapter closed, the other unfolds
I want to say to the fam, friends, supporters worldwide,
if you identify with the hustle in this struggle,
then guess what, your down with us
