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Kendrick Lamar – Mortal Man

Kendrick Lamar
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исполнитель Kendrick Lamar

правообладатель Warner/Chappell Ltd

жанр Рэп

длительность 12:07

размер 27.73 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено moder3

Mortal Man
12:07
Ohhh, ohhhh, woahhh Uh, yeah Uh, yeah Uh Yeah, uh The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin' Let these words be your Earth and moon, you consume every message As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression And with that being said, my nigga, let me ask this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan— (one two, one two) When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin' Let these words be your Earth and moon, you consume every message As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression And with that being said, my nigga, let me ask this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Won't you look to your left and right? Make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Do you believe in me? Are you deceiving me? Could I let you down easily, is your heart where it need to be? Is your smile on permanent? Is your vow on lifetime? Would you know where the sermon is if I died in this next line? If I’m tried in a court of law, if the industry cut me off If the government want me dead, plant cocaine in my car Would you judge me a drug-head or see me as K. Lamar? Or question my character and degrade me on every blog? Want you to love me like Nelson, want you to hug me like Nelson I freed you from being a slave in your mind, you’re very welcome You tell me my song is more than a song, it’s surely a blessing But a prophet ain’t a prophet til they ask you this question: When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Won't you look to your left and right? Make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propellin' Let my words be your Earth and moon, you consume every message As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression And with that— Do you believe in me? How much you believe in her? You think she gon’ stick around if them 25 years occur? You think he can hold you down when you down behind bars, hurt? You think y’all on common ground if you promise to be the first? Can you be immortalized without your life being expired? Even though you share the same blood, is it worth the time? Like, who got your best interest? Like, how much are you dependent? How clutch are the people that say they love you? And who pretending? How tough is your skin when they turn you in? Do you show forgiveness? What brush do you bend when dusting your shoulders from being offended? What kind of den did they put you in when the lions start hissing? What kind of bridge did they burn? Revenge on your mind when it’s mentioned You wanna love like Nelson, you wanna be like Nelson You wanna walk in his shoes, but your peacemaking seldom You wanna be remembered that delivered the message That considered the blessing of everyone This your lesson for everyone, say; When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? Won't you look to your left and right? Make sure you ask your friends When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The voice of Mandela, hope this flow stay propellin' Let my word be your Earth and moon, you consume every message As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression And if you riding with me, nigga— I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issues I hold grudges like bad judges, don’t let me resent you That’s not Nelson-like—want you to love me like Nelson I went to Robben’s Island analysing; that’s where his cell is So I could find clarity—like, how much you cherish me? Is this relationship a fake, or real as the heavens be? See I got to question it all; family, friends, fans, cats, dogs Trees, plants, grass, how the wind blow, Murphy’s Law Generation X—will I ever be your ex? Flaws of a baby step', mauled by the mouth a bit—pause Put me under stress, crawled under rocks, duckin' y’all It’s respect—but then tomorrow, put my back against the wall How many leaders you said you needed then left 'em for dead? Is it Moses? Is it Huey Newton or Detroit Red? Is it Martin Luther? JFK? Shooter—you assassin Is it Jackie? Is it Jesse? Oh, I know it’s Michael Jackson—oh When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? That nigga gave us "Billie Jean," you say he touched those kids? When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows stay propelling Let my word be your Earth and moon, you consume every message As I lead this army, make room for mistakes and depression And if you riding with me, nigga, let me ask this question, nigga "I remember you was conflicted Misusing your influence Sometimes I did the same Abusing my power, full of resentment Resentment that turned into a deep depression Found myself screaming in the hotel room I didn’t wanna self destruct The evils of Lucy was all around me So I went running for answers Until I came home But that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was But while my loved ones was fighting the continuous war back in the city I was entering a new one A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned The word was respect Just because you wore a different gang color than mine's Doesn’t mean I can’t respect you as a black man Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us But I don’t know, I’m no mortal man Maybe I’m just another nigga” Shit and that’s all I wrote I was gonna call it "Another Nigga" but, it ain’t really a poem I just felt like it’s something you probably could relate to Other than that, now that I finally got a chance to holla at you I always wanted to ask you about a certain situa- About a metaphor actually, uh, you spoke on the ground What you mean by that, what the ground represent? The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil Right That’s how I see it, my word is bond I see—and the ground is the symbol for the poor people Right The poor people is gonna open up this whole world And swallow up the rich people 'Cause the rich people gonna be so fat And they gonna be so appetizing, you know what I’m saying Wealthy, appetizing The poor gonna be so poor, and hungry Right You know what I’m saying, it’s gonna be like You know what I'm saying, it's gonna be... There might, there might be some cannibalism out this muh-fu- They might eat the rich, you know what I'm saying? Aight so let me ask you this then Do you see yourself as somebody that’s rich Or somebody that made the best of they own opportunities? I see myself as a natural born hustler A true hustler in every sense of the word I took nothin’, I took the opportunities I worked at the most menial and degrading job And built myself up so I could get it to where I owned it I went from having somebody managing me To me hiring the person that works my management company I changed everything, I realized my destiny In a matter of five years, you know what I’m saying? I made myself a millionaire, I made millions for a lot of people Now it’s time to make millions for myself, you know what I’m saying? I made millions for the record companies I made millions for these movie companies Now I make millions for, for us And through your different avenues of success How would you say you managed to keep a level of sanity? By my faith in God, by my faith in the game And by my faith in "all good things come to those that stay true" Right You know what I’m saying? And it was happening to me for a reason You know what I’m saying, I was noticing, shit I was punching the right buttons and it was happening So it’s no problem, you know I mean, it’s a problem but I’m not finna let them know I’m finna go straight through Would you consider yourself a fighter at heart or somebody that Somebody that only reacts when they back is against the wall? Shit, I like to think that at every opportunity I’ve ever been, uh Threatened with resistance, it’s been met with resistance And not only me but, it goes down my family tree You know what I’m saying, it’s in my veins to fight back Aight well, how long will you think it take before niggas be like "We fighting a war, I’m fighting a war I can’t win And I wanna lay it all down" In this country, a black man only have like 5 years we can exhibit maximum strength And that’s right now while you a teenager, while you still strong While you still wanna lift weights, while you still wanna shoot back 'Cause once you turn 30 it’s like They take the heart and soul out of a man Out of a black man, in this country And you don’t wanna fight no more And if you don’t believe me, you can look around You don’t see no loud mouth 30-year old motherfuckers That’s crazy, because me being one of your offsprings Of the legacy you left behind, I can truly tell you that There’s nothing but turmoil goin’ on so, I wanted to ask you What you think is the future for me and my generation today? I think that niggas is tired of grabbin' shit out the stores And next time it's a riot it's gonna be like, uh, bloodshed For real, I don’t think America know that I think America think we was just playing And it’s gonna be some more playing but It ain’t gonna be no playing It’s gonna be murder, you know what I’m saying? It’s gonna be like Nat Turner, 1831, up in this motherfucker You know what I’m saying, it’s gonna happen That’s crazy man, in my opinion Only hope that we kinda have left is music and vibrations Lot a people don’t understand how important it is, you know Sometimes I can like, get behind a mic And I don’t know what type of energy I’ma push out Or where it comes from, trip me out sometimes Because it's spirits, we ain’t even really rappin’ We just letting our dead homies tell stories for us Damn I wanted to read one last thing to you It’s actually something a good friend had wrote Describing my world, it says: “The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it Its only job is to eat or consume everything around it In order to protect itself from this mad city While consuming its environment The caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive One thing it noticed is how much the world shuns him But praises the butterfly The butterfly represents the talent, the thoughtfulness And the beauty within the caterpillar But having a harsh outlook on life The caterpillar sees the butterfly as weak And figures out a way to pimp it to his own benefits Already surrounded by this mad city The caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon Which institutionalizes him He can no longer see past his own thoughts He’s trapped When trapped inside these walls certain ideas take root, such as Going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city The result? Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations That the caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle Although the butterfly and caterpillar are completely different They are one and the same" What’s your perspective on that? Pac? Pac? Pac?!
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