Who Are You
(专辑: The Lost Tapes II - 2019)
Hudson Heard you got your master's Did college up, never looked back, now that's what's happening And it's good to see you made it out the
hood With a
degree, a
true man with passion Now you could enter the
so-called "White Man's Society" And go right past 'em Looking in the
Wall Street Journal for your face But it's always absent There he go, that's him Eating flan and ambrosia, watch on his arm, golden, laughing Try to get his attention, but he's flinching Guess my grimy clothes threw him off, so I
mention We were neighbors some time ago He was kinda cold, in this restaurant, full of his kind and more He sighed, tried to look surprised, I
know His side of the
city where he resides, so I
had to go, I
heard him laugh hard at some sad black jokes Hate so-called "intellectuals" No balls, he suggests we vote He stand all proud, speaking to correct his folks He want to lecture folks 'cause he professional And he suggest that we don't sell dope And I
guess it's true, but who the
fuck are you? Who are you, tryna tell me who I
am? Tryna tell me who I
am? Who are you, tryna tell me what I'm not? Tryna tell me what I'm not Who are you, tryna tell me who I
am? Tryna box me in, tryna find who I
am I'm Idi Amin, I'm Marcus Garvey H. Rap Brown, I'm Muhammad Ali I'm Reginald Lewis, George Washington Carver I'm Nas with incredible music, let's do it Thinking of a
master plan Sipping on disaster, smoking on gangster Watching niggas argue, chilling on my bar-stool With my Hell Up in Harlem hat in hand With a
girl named Pat She more than a
waitress to order your drink with She divorced a
banker and bought the
bar She got an automobile, she give an order to kill You get caught and robbed, we could see your walk is off You could lose your rhythm when you outta the
gutter for a
while You easily go to soft from hard Now we all about hustlers, number runners, hoes and sharks And we all know the
code of the
block And you talking some gibberish, anti-nigga shit 'Cause you marched back with Rosa Parks? Brother, don't start, go build your Noah's Ark You could float to the
end of the
world, and pretend what you not But I
know what you are While I
roll in my car, and I'm spending my knot While my enemies plot, you ain't out of the
shot Matter of fact, you're an easier target And I
respect everything you accomplished But I
hope I
never get old and talk that nonsense So who the
fuck are you? Who are you, tryna tell me who I
am? Tryna tell me who I
am? Who are you, tryna tell me what I'm not? Tryna tell me what I'm not Who are you, tryna tell me who I
am? Tryna box me in, tryna find who I
am She Queen of Nzinga Winnie Mandela, Ida B. Wells Why can't you tell? Why can't you tell?