Zulu Tolstoy - Billy Woods

Wrote a story about a rapper writing a story rap about his shorty trying to rap

his way up out the trap

Plenty hoes, gats, run of the mill but flow ill, voice old cognac

He’d say «No homo!»

if this was his track

So I’m writing about him writing about him writing about that

Felt it fell flat, took a break but he kept going like «Sorry, B,

I got an album to rap»

Two decent sixteens, chorus cook crack

Ended up not using it, not like it was wack but something off with the hats

Producer caught feelings, took the beat back

Tape brick bad, he quick mad

Meanwhile, shorty from the song still rapping, buzzing, «This really might

happen!»

Taking meetings in Manhattan, single has traction

Hip-Hop cops trying to catch him packing

Dusty old warrants dug out file cabinets, «That's that good hate!»

Every time the phone ring, might could be Drake

Missed SouthBy, whitey wouldn’t let him out the state

Stayed home at the gate, wrote a hook on his phone and knew right away it was

fucking great

«The good book says that he that lives by the sword shall perish by the sword,

said the black

What right man would have it any other way?

he said

It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge.

War endures.

As well ask men what they think of stone.

War was always here.

Before man was,

war waited for him.»