Loyalty v. Royalty (feat. Gil Scott-Heron)

So, a lot of the vibes, a lot of the spirit, a lot of the attitude is very similar Which is about calling a spade a spade, you know, like saying what it is Like somebody can get over on you and steal it You might not be able to get your bread back, but you don't have to be quiet about it Look I was dead broke, borrowing money Never got acknowledgment from artists borrowing from me I don't want the royalties, but when's the loyalty coming 'Cause the person that you've become is so unbecoming Who the fuck did you summon (Demons) I'm mad you had to miss the whole come-up But you was with me for the cold summers I was spazzin' back when Manchin was jackin' Forerunners Walkin' round with bolt-cutters for the whole summer Shit I was on: Adderall, Ritalin, Vyvanse Felt like Ayatollah in the city that I ran Whippin' in frying pans, puttin' fiends on a diet plan Put a pound of lean on my diaphragm Five bands just to get you hit like a by stand (errr) Couldn't snitch if I wanted to, my life is a blur I got the rifle, tryna' stifle the urge I want the same legacy that Michael deserve Bitch, fuck what you heard I don't turn it into anything I just speak on it the way it looks to me (yeah, that's right) Well, it's the theater of the absurd, you know And I'm like fuck, the only way that I could change it Would be to act serious about something that looks ridiculous Look (woo) It's too late now Who's the one lookin' two-faced now My girl got the blue face AP and the screw face down So I'm skatin' on these bitches like I'm Lupe now I won't trust you with consignment, told 'em to pay now Before I gotta put a hollow in your toupee now Bitch, give me my flowers and my bouquet now (touché) Every rapper gettin' soufflé'd now Every day I smoke a bag of this Kush I would leave for good and never look back if I could Yesterday, I made a hit list and stapled it to a map of the woods Fuckin' crooks, you could never give me back what you took They had it in for me Couldn't stand the thought of me havin' infamy Two guns, four drums, that's a tympani Hollows sing, some hum, that's a symphony What's the sense in me tellin' truth if they censor me? There it is And a lot of folks who had thought about that said Gee, yep, you know, right, bingo (I think about that sometimes) Right, so I don't think that just stretching it to make it funny I think it's distressing to make it anything else There's so many things to draw from your material