Black Thought – 9th Vs. Thought Lyrics

Twenty-one pound

[Verse 1]
I’m not a typical arrogant American on prescribed medicine
I’m sick as I ever been
Rollin’ out of the dealership in a McLaren
These rappers is Peter Pan, I’m Pan-African
Space invader blackin’ ‘em
Mixin’ Alexander McQueen with Haider Ackermann
Real rapture in the form of a living man
I don’t give a damn, not a mortal could test me
See, I don’t get examed
I’m a high priest and a wild beast
Once warrior, now chief—the mouthpiece of the foul East
And I’ma rock ‘em, sock ’em robot HOF, I drop bombs
Any flow I got come at you like “dot coms”
You should know I’m not, for the run of the mill drill
I’m still trill, the flame thrower, the real deal
I don’t coincide with the oddness
Your highness is where the pantheon of the gods is, I promise
I’m known for being brutally honest
If lyricism is spiritual to you then rewind this
I’ma kill ’em but it ain’t about to be with kindness
I believe the industry about to see a conquest
Changin’ of the mindset
Money just a concept, never been a object
Even when my mother was livin’ up in the projects
Now my ratin’ is higher than young Richard Pryor get
Still speakin’ my mind, just in a different dialect

[Interlude 1]
It takes two to make anthropology
The student and the studied
That being the case, it is time for the studied to examine the student and to evaluate its own self

[Verse 2]
I said, I seen it all, I had it all and I ain’t mad at all
This rapper toss gravitas like a cannonball
Stayin’ up all night, throwin’ my sleep pattern off
I need a doctor on call to keep Adderall
Position of my commission is trilateral
You f*ckin’ with me, you trippin’ for tryin’ that at all
I mess around, make the call, get the gat involved
I know people, it’s a small world after all
My credit card say it’s onward at the mall
My broad lookin’ like she Cinderella at the ball
Reborn every January like a Capricorn
From downtown, no Ryan Lewis and Macklemore
It’s yours truly, I’m Paul Mooney, I’m George Clooney
I’m fully immersed in the craft, bringin’ awards to me
The bass player said he gon’ sue me
I gave the finger to him, the Lord gave a round of applause to me
My soul winnin’, I’ve been goaltendin’
Cold sentence, scroll pennin’, nigga gone ’til it’s no limit
The vision came to me so vivid
My observation was if money for the takin’, I’ma go and get it
Y’all know my everyday lay no costume
I murk rappers and they can’t play no possum
Another studio but it’s the same old outcome
I told my nigga Spon Vicious, “Baby, we got one”

[Interlude 2]
Accurate scholarship and free, dedicated artists would reveal a singularly important thing
Racism was and is not only a mark of ignorance
It was and is a monumental fraud