Prisoners

Sample from WIllie Jones III’s ‘The Thorn’ and an interview with Kendrick Lamar.

[Verse]

Look at this white kid, Dilla beat for the views
Intruding his groove so Christian girls will jump from their pews
And spew out the curses lurkin in Maybach tunes
And swoon at the Hearses herdin the real cats they shoot
And we didn’t do a thing ‘cause we figured they were all talk
Wouldn’t walk the walk, just wanted to knock a beat to drop
Then cop a gold chain or two to symbolize their cash
Pockets fat from rap they tracked by turning art to trash
Bass and clap, defacing cats, a few chewed butts of zags
Crew cuts and young bloods, dodging cuffs and robbing dads
Of their sons, blunt rippin, yellin Bloods
Huffing paint, snorting shame, using knives to mug for guns
Run bitches run ‘cause their shit’s taking over
Make over from loafers to a sagging, bragging poser
And no sir, that odor, ain’t a dying breed of voters
Who can’t read, thug disease, fleein pigs like Kosher
And a MAD city surrounding this song
Saw the wrong in convicts scripting through bong hits
And why grip bottles and call it role modelin
Topple pride when teetering, toddler drunk wobbles it
Keep ‘em popping kid ‘cause that’s what I do
Chew up some lies and make you try lighting it too
Treat the fans uncouth and women like shoes
Blow about two hundred, get ‘em off then on to buying new
Whack a dude, shoot up his crew then steal away his sister
If this is mainstream then I guess I wanna be hipster
Roll up my jeans instead of poison ears of the listeners
Critters of habit, we’ll scratch it and pact to not be crimes prisoners
Mister mister, a misfit truth twister
Didn’t shoot that cat it’s a different finger blister
Bitter taste and picture blood-stained brain trigger pullin
Drifter rulin, grippin gruelin thoughts to profit richer
Yo, it’s just the game, bounding round to keep it sane
Deranged cranial thoughts pacing blank through the brain
And breaking shattering panes, way past it’s okay
To be vacant in remorse, only endorsing all the pain
To stay famed, paving these grave stone names
Raping then, dropping casings to ensure you stay traced
In the pavement for your claim to anything even strayin
From the plain way they fake the hate then hide behind some prayin