“Who’s Gonna Save My Soul” (Remix)

love is conditional
i never knew that mary’d put a whole in my fishin’ boat
i got to trippin mo’
she went to bitchin’ mo
the court of universal law said it wasn’t permissable
she went to forte
i stayed pianissimo
then i went to forte
and she went to physical
should i go?
should i stay and withstand the additional
attacks on the mental and the physical?
its gon get dangerous
why waste time in these childlike exchanges
why waste time with these childlike games
its just make up to break up
cryin’ all the time baby messin’ up your makeup
try and scratch my face up
she say “i need communication jay but you don’t say much”
i know it ain’t okay but…
i’m from where niggas keep they mouths closed and the gate shut.
it seems like only yesterday that i was just a kid in christian dior velour, ballys and a shape up…
spinnin’ on cardboard
and tryna rip a break up.
life comes at you fast.
i went from sleepin’ in class to sleepin’ the streets forgettin’ where i wake up.
when i was hit with trial,
i slipped into survival
mode
and did alotta shit a nigga wasn’t proud of
so…
when i be sittin’ on the couch with a blank head,
i be at the homeless shelter Jefferson in Bankhead.
a jack sippin dank head
makin’ sure niggas don’t steal my clothes,
tryna make a path so i fulfill my goals,
tryna take a bath so i can heal my soul…
a little bit of laughter to conceal my woes…
who gon save me?

“Swagger Jackson’s Revenge”

it’s the return of the black moors with no fez
it’s eerie like that documentary on lisa lopez
pentagrams pyramids conspiraspicies with goat heads
knock down the levees
knock down the projects
start another project
build another object
a drive thru touchscreen doctrine for me to digest
just horses with our blinders on
drivin’ by the obvious
ridin’ by the obvious
glidin’ by the ovbious
regardless who you vote for
if the mind dont grow
and the poverty line don’t go
but the dope keep coming
and the tv keep flashing images of a
sports car
then you bound for a coke war
the meek get clowned by the coke law
the sheep get drowned in the folklore
then lulled to sleep by tom brokaw
what a pitty
the hope on a politicians tongue
never ever trickles down the city
so if a nigga put a presidents mask on
and run up in the bank with a mac saying gimme
i aint glad at him
but i aint mad at him

if anybody ask you who i be
say
a painter with a felt pen who Drew Ali
im like cassius when i blast molasses
out the ass of the masses
from fulton street mall to gratiot
im handin out free at last kits

“yo jay where ya staff at?”

“Green (Lantern) said you threw it”

yeah.
i outgrew it

some blogs said “you blew it”
nigga fuck yo blog

jigga man said you cant knock the hussle dog
im on the same launchin pad that shot russel off
thats why i stay dougie