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The last of a dying breed |
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I don't remember much about bein born |
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But I do remember this: |
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I was conceived on |
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February 10th |
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Complications detected in my early months of ballin |
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Around my sonargram you could see the evil was swarmin |
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The hassle, was it what the world was seekin in a child? |
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The doctors wanted me out, my mama's in denial |
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Then I kicked her and gently rubbed my hands across her stomach |
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Told her: "Keep em off me, mama, I'm comin, I'm comin" |
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Now I guess |
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I musta been the reason mama couldn't sleep |
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Interrupted her peace, but it was time for me to eat |
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And since carryin me caused all that swimmin in your feet |
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Just know that |
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I'm thankful, |
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I'll let you feel it with my heartbeat |
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All the doctor visits and physicians movin me around |
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You could sense my discomfort in every other ultrasound |
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And I'm runnin out of room in here, steady slidin down |
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Then she opened up her legs and pushed me out (pushed me out) (Nigger, nigger never die Blackface, shining eye) |
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When I awoke |
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I recall them walkin out my nose |
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Screamin at the top of my lungs, freezing cold |
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Wrapped me up in blankets after dressing me in clothes |
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Then I met the ?? that |
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I owed At 3 o'clock, what-what, nine seven o |
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Was the birth of a dying species, and this |
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I know The truth was in my bloodline, planted in my seed |
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The last of this muthafuckin breed |
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The last of this muthafuckin breed |
