Testo Hear Me - Journalist 103, Saigon, Fashawn

Hear Me

I’m in the struggle for y’all out here you, man. Ya know?
So listen closely. Yo
I craft rhymes designed for mind stimulation
I was blessed to turn a hobby to an occupation
Rock the mics for the people, gettin' standin' ovation
‘Cause my verbal demonstration’s a little abrasive
Hatin' fakeness, protestin' the fairy tale
Bein' booked by the radio for the record sales
But I see what it is—they want our souls in hell
The devil’s runnin' the media—it ain’t hard to tell
I derail the sucka train, the thought
Which usually leaves most of my kind locked in the blocks
Lil' cockin' the Glock with the pistol to your knot
Check it in before you splattered over this sidewalk
I don’t side talk—homeboy, I’m a straight shooter
My verbal missiles is locking on anything moving
So if you know like I know, you’d better keep it moving
Before you caught in the stampede of a verbal movement
Every word I express turns to action. Watch it manifest
Speaking out for the oppressed, fightin' for freedom, homie, and nothin' less
Steady, spittin' that raw shit. Watch as the crowd turns to mosh pits
Let the run this truth when I step in the booth. Who wanna start shit?
It’s hip hop. Tower can sell. Niggas is still in and out of them jail
Papa still got the powder for sell
All the blindfolded blacks act like we ain’t allowed to rebel
It’s hell. We runnin' out of ways to try to prevail
The women turnin' to strippers, got vaginas for sale
The fellas is just ridiculous, lack loyalty and honor as well
I got some comrades and mine are for real
Check. I’m tryin' to call the guys, is ready to organize
The Good Guy Gang bangers, boy we on a ride
You be surprised if I could describe all the times
Niggas ready to ride—most of them offer they lives
If we buildin' for the betterment of our children
The future look bright and we never give up until then
Although I never earn a third of my respects
I still shoulder the Tech. My culture: Verbal Architect
Yeah, full effect
Every word I express turns to action. Watch it manifest
Speaking out for the oppressed, fightin' for freedom, homie, and nothin' less
Steady, spittin' that raw shit. Watch as the crowd turns to mosh pits
Let the run this truth when I step in the booth. Who wanna start shit?
I give birth to a rhyme, now I’m flashing my flesh
Let destiny manifest with every sentence I sketch
The world is mine—I don’t deserve nothin' less
Cut all the small talk. Cut the check
I rap for those in in need of reparation
Reciprocity. I’m on the Odyssey
. Obviously. I’m the last real nigga alive as far I can see
Uh. It’s like my pen’s filled with Ex-Lax
Shit on the track. What you expect? Splat!
Lames get the chains off they neck snatched
I don’t see a finishing line, I’m on my next lap
Ugh. I can’t stand you niggas
Y’all be on that bullshit. I should brand you niggas
Uh. Not comfortable with coming in third
Got a bundle of words. I just wanna be heard
Word… Word…
Every word I express turns to action. Watch it manifest
Speaking out for the oppressed, fightin' for freedom, homie, and nothin' less
Steady, spittin' that raw shit. Watch as the crowd turns to mosh pits
Let the run this truth when I step in the booth. Who wanna start shit?