DEAD-ISH - Marlon Craft

I keep doin' everything I told 'em I would

And they keep lookin' surprised

How many times before you get the rhythm?

The type of greatness can’t encapsulate in pen descriptions

I bring life out 'em that they ain’t know they had

Doin' exorcisms for artistic exhibition

Protect the vision at all costs

Horace Grant attire shit

You’re a planet liar and I won’t give 'em no shine to grow

Lotta rappers stick to sucking dick when it’s their time to blow

Finish a verse everyone look like they hate oxygen

New York ain’t seen this much heart since Nate Robinson

I’m on the train, this whole car got no clue they ridin' wit a G and shit

I’m just grateful that I ain’t clockin' in

Walk different when you got somethin' to lose

So fuck it, I’ll leave the toughness to you

Shit, we all still fightin' over hoes, that’s a budget-less feud

All the contention in my life is million-dollar implications

2 years, I’ll be rich and do it all from syncopation

And if they ain’t my sons, they at least an iteration of Craft

And in the streets I didn’t bang shit

But hung enough to know that you look like a walking piece of litigation

I never gave a fuck about who was cool

I ain’t signed to the code, but I knew the rules

I knew once that fame come before the money shit

Sold-out shows, still might catch me in an Uber pool

I know you wish folks would consider your pain

If you have a voice, shit, you could consider your aim

White men mass shootings, they blame video games

Black women shot in cribs for playin video games

So much shit in our face, and we like fuck it, I guess this the way we livin'

today

Stuck in our ignorant ways

Same sickness and a few of the symptoms have changed

It’s the type of thinkin' that lead to my livid-est days

But if I’m honest, I ain’t really did shit to bring change

Martin Luther King ain’t have ad-libs, he had actions

And when they ask what Craft did, want them to say he had classics

Guess it’s hard to find pursuits that’s selfless

Guess the goal’s to be selfish in ways that can’t help shit

Instead we on the Gram, find ways to embellish

Sometimes uninformed folks make me jealous

The more you know, shit, the more you feel dead-ish