Mortal Man Song Lyrics
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel itLet these words be your earth and moonYou consume every messageAs I lead this army make room for mistakes and depressionAnd 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 they propel itLet these words be your earth and moonYou consume every messageAs I lead this army make room for mistakes and depressionAnd 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?Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friendsWhen 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 offIf the government want me dead, plant cocaine in my carWould you judge me a drug-head or see me as K. LamarOr question my character and degrade me on every blogWant you to love me like Nelson, want you to hug me like NelsonI freed you from being a slave in your mind, you’re very welcomeYou tell me my song is more than a song, it’s surely a blessingBut 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?Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friendsWhen shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel itLet my words be your earth and moon you consume every messageAs I lead this army make room for mistakes and depressionAnd 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 theFirst? Can you be immortalised 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 dustingYour 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 or your mind when it’s mentioned?You wanna love like Nelson, you wanna be like NelsonYou wanna walk in his shoes but you peacemaking seldomYou wanna be remembered that delivered the messageThat considered the blessing of everyoneThis 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?Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friendsWhen 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 moonYou consume every messageAs I lead this army make room for mistakes and depressionAnd if you riding with me, nigga
I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issuesI hold grudges like bad judges, don’t let me resent youThat’s not Nelson-like, want you to love me like NelsonI went to Robben’s Island analysing, that’s where his cell isSo I could find clarity, like how much you cherish meIs this relationship a fake or real as the heavens be?See I got to question it all, family, friends, fans, cats, dogsTrees, plants, grass, how the wind blowMurphy’s Law, generation X, will I ever be your X?Floss off a baby step, mauled by the mouth ofPit bulls, put me under stressCrawled under rocks, ducking y’all, it’s respectBut then tomorrow, put my back against the wallHow 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, shoot or you assassinIs 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 they propel itLet my word be your earth and moon you consume every messageAs I lead this army make room for mistakes and depressionAnd if you riding with me nigga, let me ask this question nigga
“I remember you was conflictedMisusing your influenceSometimes I did the sameAbusing my power, full of resentmentResentment that turned into a deep depressionFound myself screaming in the hotel roomI didn’t wanna self destructThe evils of Lucy was all around meSo I went running for answersUntil I came homeBut that didn’t stop survivor’s guiltGoing back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earnedOr maybe how A-1 my foundation wasBut while my loved ones was fighting theContinuous war back in the city, I was entering a new oneA war that was based on apartheid and discriminationMade me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learnedThe word was respectJust because you wore a different gang color than mine’sDoesn’t mean I can’t respect you as a black manForgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streetsIf I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing usBut I don’t know, I’m no mortal man, maybe I’m just another nigga”
Shit and that’s all I wroteI 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, you spoke on the ground.What you mean ’bout 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,The poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up theRich people. Cause the rich people gonna be so fat,They gonna be so appetising, you know what I’m saying, wealthy,Appetising. The poor gonna be so poor and hungry,You know what I’m saying it’s gonna be like… there mightBe some cannibalism out this mutha, they might eat the rich
Aight so let me ask you this then,Do you see yourself as somebody that’s rich orSomebody that made the best of their 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 soI could get it to where I owned it.I went from having somebody manage me to me hiring the person thatWorks my management company.I changed everything I realized my destiny in a matter of five yearsYou know what I’m saying I made myself a millionaire.I made millions for a lot of people now it’s time to make millionsFor 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 us
And through your different avenues of success,How would you say you managed to keep a level of sanity?
And by my faith in “all good things come to those that stay true.” 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 notFinna let them know. I’m finna go straight through
Would you consider yourself a fighter at heart orSomebody that only reacts when they back is against the wall?
Shit, I like to think that at every opportunity I’ve ever beenThreatened 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 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 exhibitMaximum strength, and that’s right now while you a teenager,While you still strong or 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 ofA 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 muthafuckas
That’s crazy, because me being one of your offspring of the legacyYou left behind I can truly tell you that there’s nothing but turmoilGoin’ on so I wanted to ask you what youThink is the future for me and my generation today?
I think that niggas is tired of grabbin’ shit out the stores and nextTime it’s a riot there’s gonna be, like, uh, bloodshed for real.I don’t think America know that.I think American think we was just playing and it’s gonna be someMore 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 muthafucka. 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,Lotta people don’t understand how important it is.Sometimes I be like,Get behind a mic and I don’t know what type of energyI’mma push out, or where it comes from. Trip me out sometimes
Because the 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 friendHad wrote describing my world. It says:
“The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived itIts only job is to eat or consume everythingAround it, in order to protect itself from this mad cityWhile consuming its environment theCaterpillar begins to notice ways to surviveOne thing it noticed is how much theWorld shuns him, but praises the butterflyThe butterfly represents the talent,The thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillarBut having a harsh outlook on life the caterpillar sees theButterfly as weak and figures outA way to pimp it to his own benefitsAlready surrounded by this mad city the caterpillarGoes to work on the cocoon which institutionalizes himHe can no longer see past his own thoughtsHe’s trappedWhen trapped inside these walls certain ideas take roots,Such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad cityThe result?Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnantFinally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations thatThe caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggleAlthough the butterfly and caterpillar areCompletely different, they are one and the same.”
What’s your perspective on that?Pac? Pac?Pac?!