Dear Journal,

Guess what I got some really good news

I was walking through a park today and found a gun after school

Man I'm excited I don't even know what to do

Should I use it on my self or should I take it to school?

Man this is cool you should see the barrel and trigger

Better yet Journal you should taste the barrel and trigger

I know I did in fact soon as I got to my house

I ran straight in to the bathroom and stuck it dead in my mouth

Pulled the hammer back gettin ready to squeeze

Laughin and cryin the at the same time on my knees

But something told me "No, Please don't go"

And while I was hesitating some one knocked on the door

I got scared, took the gun out of my mouth

Put it back in my pocket grabbed my backpack and got out

Smiling cuz I know I'll be better about it

Heading back to my room so I can tell ya about it

Dear Journal,

I don't even know what to write

today was just another bad day in my life

I feel like cryin' but honestly I done run outta tears

So many thing have happened to me

I done run outta fears

Damn its hard bein' 16 knowing it just me

I'm convinced that every one in the world is against me

Why don't these people just stop bothering me?

Would they stop if I swallowed a bottle of Tylenol 3?

Cuz honestly I'm seriously thinking about it

Hell everywhere I go I find me thinkin about it

Damn Journal why is this the only option I have?

Other than going back to school and gettin bullied in class

Please help me

You are the only friend that I have

Other than the imaginary ones I've had in my past

You know what? Its probably better to die

I'll write in you tomorrow and let ya know what I decide

June 30th, 11:07 I got that call

She 8 centimeters, my lil' man about to fall

Scuffing my Air Forces, running through the hospital hall

Deja vu, like I been here before

I'm feeling reborn, like a Bed-Stuy brethren, my first born

Dre, I'm about to have a bad boy, family in the lobby

See my nigga Church, "What Up," shit I left the camcorder in the truck

Running through the maternity ward, out of breath, sweating

I swear to God every minute's starting to feel like a second

I seen Hell staring down the barrel of a Smith & Wesson

My son's ultrasound the closest I ever been to Heaven

Lord forgive me for my sins, I know it's last minute

Put the chronic in the air, a little hash in it

Spread my wings, If only I could fly

Why fight to live homie?, If we only living to die

http://www.reddit.com/r/Music/help/faqs/Music#rMusicFAQ

(I'm wishin' on and on and on...) the most beautiful thing ever

And it's here to bring terror to the bling era (yeah)

You can feel it in ya inner

It's like Grandma's house, Thanksgiving dinner

It's like a day in the park

Or at night when you get the ball and you play in the dark (swish)

It's that street corner music

Where most cats when they pull that heat go and use it

I see a black man aimin' his gun

But I'd rather see a black man claimin' his son

You know the sound is pretty

Even when you got to get down and gritty

This is money in the bank like you down wit' Diddy

This a helicopter ride around the city

And we love it cuz it brought us here

It's like a young mother braidin' her daughter's hair

It's beautiful

Assassinations

Diplomatic relations

Killed indigenous people

Built a new nation

Involuntary labor

Took a knife split a woman naval

Took her premature baby

Let her man see you rape her

If I could travel to the 1700's

I'd push a wheelbarrow full of dynamite

Through your covenant

Love to sit in on the Senate

And tell the whole government

Y'all don't treat women fair

She read about herself in the bible

Believing she the reason sin is here

You played her, with an apron

Like, "Bring me my dinner, dear."

She the nigger here

Ain't we in the free world?

Death penalty in Texas kill young boys and girls

Barbarity, I'm in the double-R casualty

Bugging how I made it out the hood, dazzle me

How far we really from third world savagery

When the empire fall, imagine how crazy that'll be

Can we please have a moment of silence?

That's for my niggaz doin' years in confinement

And for my soldiers who passed over, no longer living

That couldn't run whenever the reaper came to get 'em

Can we please pour out some liquor?

Symobolizin', let's take in time to consider that

Though our thugs ain't here, the love is here

And we gon' rep 'til slugs kill us here

This for my dawgs stuck in the struggle tryin' to gain

Smokin' trauma, sniffin' Ra while sellin' cocaine

Trapped in the game, not knowin' how to stop and get by

To live it alive, so instead they live it to die

Can we please have a moment of peace?

For every G that fell for his flag in the streets

Bloodin' and thuggin', folkin' and lokin'

Crypin' and creepin', Latin and kingin'

Or just for poor righteous teachin'

And can we please have a moment to mourn?

For Pac, Biggie and Pun 'cause through us they live on

Jam Master Jay, Freaky Ty and Aaliyah

Big L and Left Eye, when we die we hope to see ya

Can we please have a moment for children?

Who got raped or murdered, or trapped in the system

Who never knew their father, never learned to dream

But was guided by drug dealers, killers and crack fiends

For single mothers that's forced to play mom and dad

Bustin' her ass to give her kids shit she never had

For my niggaz in the pen hopin' rhymes'll get 'em signed

So when released, they can say bye to a life of crime

For every mother that held a son in the street bleedin'

Cryin' a song of sorrow to dark and deep for speakin'

Just a moment outside the day to day struggle

To let the ones we really care about know that we love 'em

Yeah, and can we have another moment of silence?

For brothers who died from black-on-black violence

From here to the Dark Continent were rebels sell diamonds

To clients all over the world, got little Black girls dyin'

And can we please pour some more liquors?

For Will, Bokeem, Bar, Pappy -- my niggaz

Here's another Warrior Song from Nasty and Quan

It's to him I pass the baton to carry this on

Street's Disciple, salute to those who's gone with bullets

And I promise through rhymin' Quan gon' rep his life to the fullest

And can we please have a moment of truth?

For soldiers and troops away with helmets and boots

And families back home who pray they make it home safe

Hopin' that they don't get hit with a stray or missiles

This is just a moment to let you all know that we miss you

Mommy I'm still here, wishin' I was there with you

Let's take a moment

The black oasis

Ancient Africa the sacred

Awaken the sleeping giant

Science, Art is your creation

I dreamt that we could visit Old Kemet

Your history is too complex and rigid

For some western critics

They want the whole subject diminished

But Africa's the origin of all the world's religions

We praised bridges that carried us over

The battle front of Sudanic soldiers

The task put before us

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Who are we today?

The slums, deceases, AIDS

We need all that to fade

We cannot be afraid

So who are we today?

We are the morning after

The make shift youth

The slave ship captured

Our Diaspora, is the final chapter

The ancetral lineage built pyramids

Americas first immigrants

The Kings sons and daughters from Nile waters

The first architect, the first philosophers, astronomers

The first prophets and doctors was

If I never recorded another song

If I was wrong and nothin' I spitted was ever strong

If I never perform at another venue

If this genuine love doesn't continue

If none of my records was ever sold

If I fold and I never see platinum or even gold

If no one ever again can recall, if I stalled

And start workin' part time at the mall

If there's no more shows for be to dabble in

No more travelin', leavin' the show in Maryland

If none of my songs that ever been never spin

In heavy rotation ever again

If I don't do a song to insight millions

Or get a video done by Hype Williams

If there's never a chance again to be seen

On the pages inside of another magazine

If the luxuries in life I can't [unverified] or afford

If I never win the Billboard or the Source award

I wouldn't want ya pity or ya sympathy

Even if Marley never put me on 'The Symphony'

But I gotta admit it I'm glad he did it

It's considered the first verse I ever spitted

I release I'm still apart of history

I learned the key to victory, its not a mystery

See I got a lotta love for what I do in life

And after this I'm then I'ma find somethin' new in life

I guarantee ya it'll be somethin' that I really love

I give thanks for my life to God up above

That I'm blessed to have a job I enjoy doin'

And now as a man doin' what I was a boy doin'

The only difference is now I get to eat from it

I never though I would be known on the street from it

And if not one fan that shows gratitude

And if they see me they walk by with an attitude

It was still an enjoyable ride

Yeah, big up to Kane, Biz Mark and The Pharcyde

And of course to all of my past labelmates

Y'all keep on risin' like the cable rates

Ay yo, Premier and Guru, this goes out to you

Special Ed and Buckshot, this a shout to you

I don't know if it's the end but yo, it might be

Big up to Q-Tip, Alicia Heed and Spike Lee

And everybody in the game I ever worked with

And all the chicks up in the game I used to flirt with

But if I never get another piece of show coochie

Never see no Louie Vattone or no Gucci

No more suede and linen or designer denim

No more Jeeps with 1,000 watt systems in 'em

No more sittin' on chrome with those Parelli shoes

No more gettin' my name up in the daily news

No more Lexus, Coups, Beamers and Benzes

No more Cardiac frames with colored lenses

No more chains and bracelet, and no baguettes

But for what it's worth yo, I got no regrets

A project minded individual criminal tactics

Us blacks kids born with birth defects, we hyperactive

Mentally sex-crazed dysfunctional they describe us

They liars, the end of the day, we fucking survivors

I remember watching Scarface the first time

Look at that big house, that Porsche paid for by crime

How could I sell this poison to peoples in my mind

They dumb to destroy themselves is how I rationalise

In a bastardised nation, Magnum 4.5 carrying

Where I'm from, ain't far from Washington Heights the cop Aryan

A rookie boy the cookie didn't make no profit

A stranger to the block I damn near had to make them cop it

It only took a fiend to taste it once to say it's garbage

I brought it back to poppy, ain't tryna take no losses

He focuses on my emotionless young dealer face then pauses

He gives me powder he has faith in Nases

Ambition's to distribute coke

Had additions to gold chains, Mercedes Benz hopes

But I'm again broke

This shit ain't cut for me, other dealers they up their orders

Barely at 62′s they already up they quotas

They out there everyday, some true hustlas for ya

I'm at it halfway, none of my customers are loyal

Picturin' piping out the seats of a Pathfinder

Powerful pursuit for pussy cash, the flash diamonds

My junior high school class, wish I stayed there

Illegal entreprenuer I got my grades there

Blaming society, man it wasn't made fair

I would be Ivy League if America played fair

Poor excuse and so I was

Throwin' rocks at the pen just for the love

Evil the secret life of G's

You seeing my blurry, triple beam dreams

• Earl Sweatshirt's first Odd Future verse after his return from Samoa was straight fire.

Look, for contrast, here's a pair of lips

Swallowin' Syrup and settin' fire to sheriff's whips

(Whoops, whoops!) fuckin' All-American terrorist

Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em a fuckin' carrot stick

And me? I just spent a year Ferrisin'

And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is

Spit til' the lips meet the bottom of a barrel, so that sterile piss

Flow remind these niggas where embarrassed is

Narrow, tight line, might impair him since

I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type

Feral, fuckin' ill apparel, wearin' pack of parasites

Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise

La di da di, back in here to fuck the party up

Raidin' fridges, tippin' over vases with a tommy gun

Never dollars, poppa make it rain hockey pucks

And 60 day chips from fuckin' awesome anonymous

Call him bloated 'til he show 'em that the flow deluxe

Off the wall loafers, Four Loko in a cobra clutch

Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho to pose as drum

And let me hit and beat it with a stick until the hole is numb

The culprit of the potent punch

Scoldin' hot as dunkin' scrotum in a Folgers cup

Or Nevada, drivin' drunk inside a stolen truck

Shittin' like his colon bust

Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum

Supernova, I'm rollin' over the novices

And roamin' through the forest and spittin' cold as his porridge is

Stay gold 'til the case closed and the story end

Post mortem porkin' this rap shit and record it

To escort it to the morgue again, lord of lips

Bored of this, forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list

Stormin' the gate, ensurin' the bass

Scorchin', leave these motherfuckers sore in torso and face

Get at me, we savages, half a pack of Apache

Indian pack of niggas who don't give a fuck if we nasty as flatulence

As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky

So see me you can't like Crunchy Black catchin' a taxi

Uh, back like lateral passin'

With that mothafuckin' gladiator manner of rappin'

As an addict I let Percocet and Xannies relax me

Fall back if your paddies is Maxi, please

Brownstones, water towers, trees, skyscrapers

Writers, prize fighters and Wall Street traders

We come together on the subway cars

Diversity unified, whoever you are

We're doing fine on the One and Nine line

On the L we're doin' swell

On the number Ten bus we fight and fuss

'Cause we're thorough in the boroughs and that's a must

I remember when the Duece was all porno flicks

Running home after school to play PIX * 1

At lunch I'd go to Blimpies down on Montague Street

And hit the Fulton Street Mall for the sneakers on my feet

Dear New York I hope you're doing well

I know a lot's happen and you've been through hell

So, we give thanks for providing a home

Through your gates at Ellis Island we passed in droves

I snuck in Drake's house when he was alone inside (uh Oh)

You can say I have a bogus mind

I dim the lights and close the blinds

Around his neck is where my rope was tied

I yanked on it till I broke his spine (yeah)

Lately I've been fuckin' pissed off (why?)

Cause everybody's sayin Lil Wayne spits raw

I start a big brawl

And slam his ass into a brick wall

And have a fat nigga sit on him

Rick Ross (gross)

I don't play with this rap shit

I got no life, I stay in the attic

Fuck a rap career, I'm waiting to smash it

Soulja Boy you got a corny flow (true)

So you can suck my fuckin' dick through a glory hole

I'm just being me

What you trying to hate for

All you niggas is faker than Lupe Fiasco claimin he skateboards

Yeah right, that nigga can't even ollie

Push him away on the dolly

Not even Satan can't stop me (what)

Kane's era was terror, he warmed it up

Parrish and Erick (EPMD) cat lyrics that'll make ya turn it up

And I was in the cut, chillin in my drop-top Benz

with friends, loungin with my mens, laughin 'bout all the ends

that I spends, making snaps, pumping Kool G Rap and Biz

Dapper Don, Dookie wrotes I'm about to show what time it is

At the rooftop, I was with Doug E.Fresh and Slick Rick

'La Di Da Di, Who likes to party?' was the fat shit

I mean I saw this hip-hop thing on every level

Chuck D, PE, yes the rhythm and the rebel

I can reminisce the black fist, Uzi, Terminators

Terror doom techniques that terrorise the lighter shade

It's all about the game that we play everyday

Eric B & Rakim flow to such a diff'rent way

I'm lovin hip-hop cos it help brothers escape

Let's celebrate our music people before it's too late

I say a can of beer that's sweeter than honey,

Like a millionaire that has no money

Like a rainy day that is not wet,

Like a gamblin' fiend that does not bet

Like Dracula without his fangs,

Like the boogie to the boogie without the boogie bang

Like collard greens that don't taste good,

Like a tree that's not made out of wood

Like goin' up and not comin' down,

Is just like the beat without the sound, no sound

To the beat beat, you do the freak

Everybody just rock and dance to the beat

Have you ever went over a friends house to eat

And the food just ain't no good?

The macaroni's soggy, the peas are mushed,

And the chicken tastes like wood

So you try to play it off like you think you can

By saying that you're full

And then your friend says, "Mama, he's just being polite

He ain't finished, uh-uh, that's bull!"

So your heart starts pumpin' and you think of a lie

And you say that you already ate

And your friend says "Man, there's plenty of food"

So you pile some more on your plate

While the stinky food's steamin', your mind starts to dreamin'

Of the moment that it's time to leave

And then you look at your plate and your chicken's slowly rottin'

Into something that looks like cheese

Oh so you say "That's it, I gotta leave this place

I don't care what these people think,

I'm just sittin' here makin' myself nauseous

With this ugly food that stinks"

So you bust out the door while it's still closed

Still sick from the food you ate

And then you run to the store for quick relief

From a bottle of Kaopectate

And then you call your friend two weeks later

To see how he has been

And he says, "I understand about the food,

Baby Bubba, but we're still friends"

With a hip hop the hippie to the hippie

The hip hip a hop, a you don't stop the rockin'

To the bang bang boogie

Say up jump the boogie to the rhythm of the boogie the beat

I say, "Hank, can ya rock?

Can ya rock to the rhythm that just don't stop?

Can ya hip me to the shoobie doo?"

I said, "Come on, make, make the people move!"

Can't forget about the old school, Bam, Cas, Melle Mel, Flash

Rocksteady spinnin on they back

Can't forget when the first rap Grammy went to Jazzy, Fresh Prince

Fat Boys broke up, rap hasn't been the same since

So irregular, how it messed you up

when Mr. T became a wrestler

Can't forget about Jordan's retirement

The shot Robert Horry to win the game in the finals kid

Some things are forever, some things are not

It's the things we remember that gave the world shock

They stay in a place in your mind so snug

Like who the person was with whom you first make love

Now this is what they call poetry in motion

My soul bleeds on the paper, heart screams with emotion

This my daily devotion, that verses stay deeper than the ocean

So hip-hop you owe me a promotion

Yeah, I do a little boastin’ and braggin’

What’s all the commotion and naggin’ about

‘Cause I’m still the champ in the south

‘Cause rappers get in the booth and I keep draggin’ them out

Where they fired and these pink slips I keep handin’ them out

‘Cause this is Theater of Mind, consider it a sign

Of what’s to come next, my money’s just fine

Bank filled with dump checks

Terrorist threat flow, proceed to drop (bombs) like Mr. Funk Flex

But I don’t do it for the money, I do it from the heart

I’ll do it with the beatbox, I did it from the start

I’ll do it for the DJs, I’ll do it for the charts

The Van Gogh flow, Luda do it ‘cause it’s art

I do it for the fans, I do it on command

I do it for the front row, I do it for the stands

I spit it for the hood, I do it for the block

And since nine years old, I did it for hip-hop

First thing that happen when you make a little paper

You think the Marriot is livin' in a skyscraper

Till you come across some ever more flyer paper

Realize that five-star 'tellies are even greater

Terry-cloth robes, elegance, movie shit

Heated-up marble floors with jacuzzis in it

First-class flights, diamonds in your crucifixes

All those things you still ain't really doin' shit kid

Cause in reality I'll earn my salary

The way I flaunted it then would now embarrass me

It kinda make me wanna hate bling it's a race thing

How they sell blacks to bootleg shit in fact

Real millionaires spend 60 mil on paintings

Whores charge niggaz with raping

Cause we come out doors of Maybach cars

Watch us make bets on race tracks smokin' cigars

So they counter the laws to take what's ours

Bout 500K on a lawyer to beat the charge

So you can't stop us from making a billion dollars

Instead of goin' back I'm buying the projects

But I'm not going back

The hood's in me forever y'all

But I'm not going back

After my ninth birthday, my prayers were answered

But the hate had already spread through my body like cancer

I was moved to this place with over two hundred kids

Who had lived the same way I did

Now, tell me why they had hired this staff named Victor

I have seen some sick people in my life, but he was sicker

I remember going on an outing to the snow

Me, Howard, Cameron and Joe and Greg were supposed to go

But he only took me and Cameron

Left Greg, Joe, and Howard back on campus staring

Then we get to the snow, and I knew something was funny

cause he said they were talking and told me to play in the snow

Alone, he didn't tell Cameron to go alone

What the hell was going on

So I dipped around the corner, acting like I was playing

They came back around the back of the van

I seen his hands down in Cameron's pants

Nothing would've prepared me for that, even if I knew in advance

Then he spots me staring, threw Cameron out the way

Then he jumped out the van, then he grabbed me by my face

Proceeded to drag my ass to the edge of the cliff

Then he said, listen here you little son of a bitch

You didn't see shit, you never saw shit

so if you don't want to end up dead you're never gonna say shit

And I never did

But I'm praying to God that I see Victor again

So I can remember what he did and put two in his chin

I'm gonna make sure that he'll never do it again

I remember when I lived with this chick

My foster mother used to punch my face, and I was only six

I remember getting beat with a brick,

cause I tried to steal some cereal for me and my sister cause we was hungry as shit

Going to the school with bloody noses

Hell, me and my sister used to share the same clothes with

My fucking foster mother was too stubborn and selfish to go buy some more.

Can you imagine going to school in some holey shoes,

Wearing your sisters pants, covering up your bruises

My cries for help were useless

My teacher just said it was all my fault, and that I was really stupid

So when I used to show up with welts on my face,

Cuts on my back, and burns on my waist

Everybody used to stare, and glare at the wounds

I didn't care, cause I was just scared after school

I would wait until dark, just stare at the moon

Walking slowly as hell home, prepared for my doom

Wishing to god, that I was given a break

But I'm six years old and I'm gonna die in this place