Oblique Brown

by Oblique Brown

supported by
/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $7 USD  or more

     

  • Buy Disc

1.
2.
3.
03:05
4.
5.
01:05
6.
7.
8.
02:59
9.
04:38
10.
11.
03:57

about

Oblique Brown is the eponymous first official release from long time collaborators Zeeb from The Soulful MP's and Chee Malabar of Himalayan Project. Having previously worked together on HP's 2003's Wince At The Sun, Zeeb and Chee started work as Oblique Brown two years ago after Himalayan Project finished promoting Wince At the Sun. The resulting album is a mix of Hip Hop swagger, heartbreak, celebration and, ultimately, is a snapshot into the life of a young man in America grappling with being a "brown man in a white world, living through black music". Zeeb's beats on OB are simple yet lush urban soundscapes that provide a raw, thumping backdrop for Chee's lyrics, which range from humorous to introspective, and whose subject matter reflects a number of complicated issues such as politics, love, ambition and emotional growth. Oblique Brown consists of songs that mark what Hip Hop music has evolved into- a tool for self-expression and evaluation of all aspects of life. Chee and Zeeb recognize that dedicated fans, as well as the artists themselves, are getting older, and this album is a reflection of that maturing Hip Hop community which seeks to find itself through the music it grew up on. for more i

info visit www.himalayanproject.com

www.myspace.com/obliquebrown

credits

released June 1, 2006

Zeeb, Chee Malabar, S.Kuzner

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Oblique Brown Los Angeles

contact / help

Contact Oblique Brown

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Silent Scream
Hail Mary, sweet mother of Jesus
someone plug the mics and please adjust the speakers
preachers preach and pastors speak, but reach none
drowned by the silent screams from a bleak slum
inspiration: my pops' perspiration
wrote this verse on the train as the cops lurked the station
searching for a brown face to cage in
bagging Arabs, Blacks and South Asians
me, guess I'm a one man terror cell
'cause the cops up-down, round again like a carousel hmmm...
I've seen all the parallels
live from the land where the brave man's arrow fell
triple barreled peril, ushered in this era's hell
'Guns, Germs and Steel' while the slum squirms for real
.. gotta hustle for them tender bills
tryin' ta make a mil (meal) from scraps like Emerril
don't really splurge much, I'm far from ballin'
got a few chips, one shot, guess I'm all in
.. Poker face like Sam Farha
my man's like 'Chee, you obsessed with them cars huh?
So I show drive like the Jacob Javits center
Got a savage temper, your managements bent up
Tell 'em chill, your audience is safe
I ain't tryin ta offend your fan bases' bad taste
The beats my canvass, my speech is the hand brush
dipped in hues that speak to different moods
and still stick to hunger pains, for dinner sniff glue
.... Drink booze and spit truth
guess a drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts
as I sleep walk down these concrete street blocks
spittin' raps to the rhythm of life
like the heaves and sighs of lose lives provide the beatbox
... Live from detox
my Trini cats call me coal pot slash Pol Pot
pop a rappers head of and use it as a doorstop
... Then barge my way in
from the cold gray pavement to rock clubs like cavemen
Kevlar steez, scream, 'V, none can harm ya'
My best friend's Asian, but there's no chinks in the armor
Pardon my crassness, but I'm sick of starving
And these lines that I sow, reap greens like a garden

Fertile flow, plough it through music here
You don't like it? Plant your tulips (two lips) here yea
and kiss my ass while you at it
Asiatic pimp at it, type specific slim
No Spreewell spinners since I rock the Pacific Rim
Spit acidic phlegm, till I black out like Hasidic men
Track Name: Smoke & Mirrors
I give a fuck who's who on your whose who list
I turn whose who to who's dude quick
Their music's a nuisance, acoustics I choose
I use as nooses, Cross reference the truth spit.
music biz is the new crucifix
for dudes with Messiah complexes tryin to test this
your god don't live here, keep him on your necklace
welcome to hell son, they got you on the guestlist
keep your Lexus, their investments your deathwish
posthumous product means monstrous profit
I'm live on arrival, ain't sponsored by morbid
Corporate feedback, forfeit or ease back
Mafucka Chee's back, to sow these seeds of drama
Sending Rumsfeld sonograms of Osama
Turn a phrase like Vanna with that switchblade grammar
That monogrammed 'bitchmade' on ya suede bomber

[Hook]
Baffle 'em with brilliance or dazzle 'em with bullshit
This music: you either fight, fuck or dream to it
Baffle 'em with brillianc or dazzle 'em with bullshit

Elevate, they treat it like elevator music
Baffle 'em with brilliance or dazzle 'em with bullshit
This music: you either fight, fuck or dream to it

[Verse 2]
Drink wet cement, mixed with hot tar
So everything I spit's concrete, dog I rock hard
Drop bars, fortified with a barbed wire
Hard wired to wreck shit, leave you disconnected
Indie rap reflex and knee jerk response is
Like "Chee's work is conscious" cause these herbs is nonsense
With bomb threats and triggers, pawn sex and scripture
This verse: a still image of a moving picture
Scrimmage with dudes in rooms doomed with liquor
With sobering thoughts, my lyrics shall purge you
Scotch bottles ain't a proper prism to view my work through
Serve you whoever, circa any era
Terror dome poems, homes my brain is a moshpit
I'm straight up and down like 6 on the clock is
Yall do it backwards, got shit on ya cock's tip
Go around ya clique, I surround them quick
Then fart in ya ear so you can hear the sound of shit

[Hook]
Baffle 'em with brilliance or dazzle 'em with bullshit
This music: you either fight, fuck or dream to it
Baffle 'em with brillianc or dazzle 'em with bullshit

Elevate, they treat it like elevator music
Baffle 'em with brilliance or dazzle 'em with bullshit
This music: you either fight, fuck or dream to it

[Verse 3]
They say 'Have flow will travel", vocals forged
From iron ore transformed to 44 steel barrels
Spill gravel, pavin' a path for cats
To travel if I hear a rapper say he wanna battle
Slay ya cattle, skin 'em, hang 'em as draperies
You signed to a major, welcome to chattel slavery
Your rap's void of factoids, it's all make believe
You swallowing semen (sea men) like choppy sea's do naval fleets
Pappy please, you the face behind Maybeline
Chee's the abrasive face these racists deem
Sand Nigga fuck! Son I'm sand paper rough
I scrub till it chafes then I scrape up the dust
Place it on tapes till it makes me a buck
Embracing my placement, this place is a rut
Stuck between, rap, a rock and a hard place
No jobs, just wars, so fuck ya God's grace
Track Name: Thoroughbred
Rap labels polish pebbles and dim diamonds
So tell 'em quit spittin' and stick to bling rhymin'
I'm you times ten, times ten them dudes you miming
Dudes is hype-men, hymen soft and ass crack
I ransack their lab and insert their album with a laugh track
You'se a joke, Your career's the punchline
I sold less and made more than you, and did it unsigned
Sirens blaze when my, vinyl's played
Cause I'm, live on stage with an unbridled rage
Pacing like lions locked in an iron cage
Listen man, I came with that migrant wave
In '89 before rap hit its suicidal phase
Nowadays every rapper's dyin' to lie in his idol's grave
In dire straits strapped, with dull knives and blades
Carve the night a new day till it bleeds vibrant rays
I'm sunshine, you? A sundial in the shade

[Hook]
No rings, no bling, no rims, no cars
(Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
I'm the man that you think you are!
Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
No rings, no bling, no rims, no cars
(Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
I'm the man that you think you are!
(Chee). What? Chee) Malabar

[Verse 2]
No publicist dog, I'm a one man street team
Shove my cleats in your mouth and scrape ya teeth clean
Since cat's yap with gold fronts about plaque and flossin'
I jab them soft then, unleash Jack Johnson
Soundtrack to the brown experience, this verse is strapped
to hijack your train of thought and Colin Ferguson the track
A new version's appeared and he ain't turban clad
and if I was, I'd rock it with pride and still burn ya flag
By any means the ends necessitate, rehearsed that mantra
Now they sayin' I can sell more if I just learned some bhangra
You know? Pet dog while I'm screwin' in the light bulb
Fucker, I pull my pants up and lean back in the club
No crutch, just Chee, no microwaved hype
Just one, two's that turn the stage into fuckin' gravesites
So, to sum it all up, with this last bar
The name's Chee, I'm the man that you think you are!

[Hook]
No rings, no bling, no rims, no cars
(Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
I'm the man that you think you are!
Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
No rings, no bling, no rims, no cars
(Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
I'm the man that you think you are!
(Chee). What? Chee) Malabar
Track Name: Chee MalaWho?
Malabar, vocal's pop like shots from shotguns sawed
Rap's Scratch Perry mixed with bits of Coxson Dodd
I––brought some bars, I––talks 'em hard
On my walls, no plaques, just the tongues of slaughtered squads
... Don't answer to no gods
at no temple, synogogue, No church or the mosque
just the culture's 5 pillars, Emceein' is my hajj
start trippin', get maimed, they scream "strains of Jihad"
Not Master Fard Muhammad, but that bastard Chirag
And I want it all yall, them Aston's in ya garage
To the stone studded broaches on the bras of ya broads
... Give a fuck who applauds
dog, this is real (Israel) intelligence, shades of Mossad
uh, played the odds and strayed from the Mirage
and went from an, iron fist in a velvet glove façade
to manhandlin' beats with this brass-knuckle massage

[Hook]
(Chee ain't no joke) (But he's got no dough)
(He's got dope flows) (Man, he's just so so)
(We got lo-pros, hoes on the hoe stroll
we got coco, to keep ya nose froze)
(Oh bro! Motherfuck what you sayin
your off beat DJ, if anything he play
sound familiar, I'll wait till Zeeb say. slay 'em)

[Verse 2]
Squandered a few nights, got up in some new Nikes
Walk like a pimp, but talk my age, not my shoe size
Spit on crews, give 'em weather, when they asked for news bytes
Dead a rapper's career, hit his wake screamin' "Who's Live!"
.......Man I'm livin' for this rap shit
but half of it's slapstick and no one crafts a classic
its four finger rings, Benzes and spinner rims
cause America won't buy it unless we pander to its ignorance
.......Cause if its filtered through intelligence
they'd have to stare square at the ivory tusked elephants
in the room, and I guess you'd be relevant
but nah, stick your ass out so your sponsorship can poke it
as I cram a phrase in this space till the page is claustrophobic
and it leaps off in angst and hope like Monster Cody wrote it
listen homey, sign over the check and run it
I ain't the One, I'm all of Urb's nex One Hundred!

[Hook]
(Chee ain't no joke) (But he's got no dough)
(He's got dope flows) (Man, he's just so so)
(We got lo-pros, hoes on the hoe stroll
we got coco, to keep ya nose froze)
(Oh bro! Motherfuck what you sayin
your off beat DJ, if anything he play
sound familiar, I'll wait till Zeeb say. slay 'em)

[Verse 3]
Brown man in a white world, live it through Black music
Scrapped my way out the crab barrel, got the scabs to prove it
Shadow my movements, I shadow box till noon hits
And splits my shadow in two and I bask in its newness
... At times the feud shifts
up against the ropes, getting' pummeled, man I jab through it
fuck a Larry Merchant sermon homes, I move at Harry's urging
and he's screamin' "Attack, kill, show 'em your granite will"
... I don't fit your standard bill
built from raw nerves like that man-child in the Catskills
I'm sick, they just act ill
Bunch of hypochondriac cats with a bag of bad pills
Trying to swim in talent pools with sharks, but they lack gills
. .and their whole album sounds like a gag-reel
Hog tie their steez and cook 'em up on Cadillac grills
And chill, let the Cognac spill

[Hook]
(Chee ain't no joke) (But he's got no dough)
(He's got dope flows) (Man, he's just so so)
(We got lo-pros, hoes on the hoe stroll
we got coco, to keep ya nose froze)
(Oh bro! Motherfuck what you sayin
your off beat DJ, if anything he play
sound familiar, I'll wait till Zeeb say. slay 'em)
Track Name: Four More Years
[Verse 1]
Guerilla speech spitter, script raps from facts, ack
the patriot act's intended target barks back
pardon my hardened views, but listen close dude
I'm two rhymes away from a hard cold cell's view
from Guantanamo Bay, cause the shit I'm prone to say
dont sit well while the ink's still, wet on the constitution
amended, rendered a blatant danger this year
cause America's patterened on a culture of fear
I never gave a fuck if George Bush or Kerry won
I still ain't shit, just a third class American
thinkin' this the life that my dear God willed
but I'm livin' in the kingdom that the House of Saud built

[Verse 2]
The bullet or the ballot, I guess you chose both poisons
sendin' our sons to die, on foreign soils since
they ain't your sons, they're brown like me
while your son's gettin drunk, gettin a Yale degree
he's rockin a Che shirt, as daddy hits paydirt
bankrolling politicians who claim we lack faith
but your politics informed by a fuckin' tax break
masked by a patronizing democratic fervor
to exploit Iraqi people and justify their murder
truth is, we livin' under theocractic rule
in God We Trust, the new neo fascist tool
is money, and you helped put these vultures inside
let em pump you fear then blame a cultural divide
what the fuck do I expect when Jerry Falwell's your guide
White Amerikkka's in crisis, and what would Christ say?
bout the family structure of these brown black faces?
well lets take a closer look at what divorce rates is-
twice the national average in your bible belt
and yall elected Bush to help revive our health?
26 of 28 states with the lowest income rates swayed in his favor
and he's your fuckin' savior?
yall stupid as fuck or compelled by Christian guilt
thinkin' this the life that your dear god willed
but you livin' in the kingdom that the house of Saud built
Track Name: Oblique Brown
[Verse 1]
It was the, moment I feared, the corner was clear
or so I thought then a fucking cop appeared
in my rearview, red-blueberries was flashing
flagged me to the side of the road, starte daskin'
for "License, Registration", stayed silentand patient
waitin... as the cop ran my plates, he came back moments later
scanning my face, disappointed, "Ain't no warrants in my name
and this ride's clean man, I got it in my mama's name, what I do?
"You ran a red, illegal U, that's two tickets!"
"Cool, pass em over, i'd love to stay and kick it
but I'll catch you in court, you know I'ma fight it!"
"What! Hold up Osama, don't be so near-sighted!"
Before I snatched the ticket, the cop got excited
clutched his glock and screamed, "Don't even budge bitch!"
Thought he'd call Tom Ridge to tell him "flip the color switch"
A white boy rocks a beard, he's consided rugged
and if I sport one, I'ma threat to the public!
"What you got in the trunk? Any guns-drugs-explosives?"
"Nope, got some CD's though, you can keep as coasters!"
"Where'd you come from?"- "Right around the corner
I just rocked a show man, go ask the owner!"
"Hmm, you had drinks, even 1 or 2 Corona's?"
"Nope, i'm an organd onor, but it's too early to be one!"
"You ever been to jail?" "Nope" - "Well you 'bout to be once!"
"On what charges?" - "Any charges I choose fuck!
DUI, resisting arrest, disorderly conduct"
"Yup, guess I'm America's worst nightmare
cause I'm young, brown and look MiddleEastern"
"Yea, now get out the car, hands up, knees on the floor"
I said, "My sister went to Seton Hall, I know about the law"
he's like, "Dude, your face is probable cause"

[Hook/Bridge]

[Verse2]
I stepped out the car, put my hands upon the hood
the cop calling me names, insulting my manhood
patted me down, found a box of Newports
threw them to the ground and warned, "Dont make me use force"
"Force for what? I ain't puttin' up resistance
you ain't gonna villainize me to validate your existence"
"Listen boy, this is routine procedure
keep yappin' and I'll revoke your Visa"
right then, my girl pulled up, right beside me
jumped out her car and asked the officer politely
'What's goin' on here, leave him alone
he ain't do shit we just on our way home
from listening to some music" 'Mind your business"
She proceeded, so he turned and started starin at her boobs
and made comments, about the way that she strut
staring at her butt, calling her a slut
fuck, I reacted, jabbed his back with my elbow
"Shit, fuck, aww hell no..."
all along all this copper was lookin' for was a reason
and I gave him one, "Assault" see you at the precinct

[Verse3 ]
I'm sitting at the station, cuffed to a cell
Surrounded by browns and cold steel smell
Wondering why, we crossed the dark waters
With its past slavery, exploitation, slaughter
Through the bars in the cell, CO's tossing ham sandwiches
Laughing, treating us like savages
But America's built on inhumane pain
And I bet you felt safe when the Fox News came
That Uday and Qusay Hussein slain
..to you we all the same if you black you sell crack
if you brown you down buildings
Timmy McVeigh did the same shit, yall killed him
But you ain't trample the rights of your whitec ivilians
Didn't harass 'em, or ask 'em for Passports, Visas
Didn't freeze their assets, no search nos eizures
While Bush is up on stage, quoting Jesus
While the sons of the slums ,cuffed up on trumpedc harges
Cause we look different, talk different, labeled as Jihadists
..back in the cell I'm nodding off to a drip
from a tap, but this cats lyin in his own piss
awakens my sense of smell, I'm still in hell
a day later saw the judge, ain't have to post bail
got release on my ownr ecognizance
with a court date, no lawyer, shit ain't looking promising
"It is what it is, kiss your wifey and kids
And if they ask you better tell 'em, you might come back a felon
Oblique Brown, Oblie-Oblique-Oblique Brown
deep down, beat down by the system"
Track Name: Snapshots
[Verse 1]
When I die I'll probably go out like Charlie Bird Parker
Cigarette dangling from my lips, liver swimmin' in Vodka
Walk the path with have nots, where pain's snapshot
Is an old massive flock, some sick with bad coughs
Tryna sell me god inside a 5 train's cramped box
Invoking folks hope sayin' "Praise the black cross."
I wave 'em off, no talk, too stressed from my day job
They still citing scriptures urging me to thank god
I tune 'em out thinkin' bout the brand of scotch
I cop from that middle eastern man who runs his shop
Across the storefront church, beside an abandoned lot
On a half built block, landlocked by despair
December brisk air wouldn't risk to drift here
Where hope floats from yellow crack pipes, spliffs and squares
A riff blares in the distance and I'm forced to shift gears
Intended this writing I'm rhyming to help me think clear
But that song I hear in the distance makes me drink beer
A lost love is remembered, Brooklyn rooftop:
Watchin the sun dip west and soon due pregnant moon shot
After hours pillow talk then sex till her legs hurt
Waiting to see who said that four letter word first
In retrospect I should have said before she had to blast off
Promised myself I'd chalk her as my last loss
Its years later, she's back home in some next cat's spot
I'm sitting on the sidewalk, staring at the asphalt
Talking to Ray, he said, "Chee, just take your mask off
Seems your future starts only when the past stops
And, she ain't the one who would fall for that fast talk
She probably wont see you again, let that Jazz Walk
And hope she takes this verse as your breathing snapshot."

[Verse 2]
In a sentimental mood, sifting through pictures accrued
Through the past few years, stumbled on this wrinkled snapshot
A brownstone on a Brooklyn block provides the backdrop
She's sittin' on a sun-splashed stoop, her hands: crossed
Hints of lip gloss trace a nearby beer can's top
Halter top got me wondering where that tan stops
Almond skin tone, make a mute man wanna sing songs
Curves inspiration, for carvings on a King's throne
She's half smilin', the flag of the island
She managed to dance away from, stands at half mast
Upon her bedroom's window sill, eyes indo filled
Heavy and red reflect the strife of her civil war riddled
Motherland, where brother's hand, widows wills
And they barely flinch when it still drips with blood
I take a step back and, stare above
Thinking bout all the things I've lost including love
History, hope, all of it captured by a flashbulb
She asked once, if there's anything deeper than love
I ain't know what to say, no matter how deeper I dug
I know the answer know, but the chance to answer it's gone
I've come apart baby, I've come of heart lately
Trouble man no more, I'll patch myself back with this song baby
one more glance at your face then the past stops
as I stand up, (stand up) and crumple up your snapshot
Track Name: What Remains
[Verse 1]
Mom, I know you think I'm too cold for love
Too old for hugs, who stole the rug?
From under our feet, you used to watch me on the street
Through the window in the kitchen where you cooking up a feast
How we rarely speak now sit and eat in hurt, silent
I wanna ask but life and when you stopped smilin'
But, I'm on the road again this weekend
You got a weary look like you just been weepin'
Is it stress? Debts? Work and no sleep?
Your once alert eyes now lined with crows feet
Shhhh....I just wish that you'd speak
Bout the life that you seek, 'bout the life that we had then
You raising two kids, who asking where dad went
You made a brave face and, packed up our bags then
Moved us to America, you still jet lagged
worked hard, no relaxing, they laughed at your accent!
Damn you soldiered through everything life's force brings
........but I wanted more things
cause Cory's got Diadoras, Rob's got gold rings
I'm rockin' kicks you copped from a grocery store bin
So I stole from your purse, don't know what hurt worse
The fact that I stole or you couldn't buy me new shirts
That's life you'd say, you made no excuses
So I stencil in your hurt, these words will see you through it

[Hook]
If it hurts or it aches, if it burns or it stings
Is it worth all the strain, all the tears that remain
Through the years when the pain comes to claim what remains
Cause it must be love. You trusted love
If it hurts or it aches, if it burns or it stings
Is it worth all the strain, all the tears that remain
Through the years when the pain comes to claim what remains
Then it must be love. You trusted love

[Verse 2]
Khalil, it's been a minute since we talked
I'm sittin at this bar in Michigan sippin' a scotch
Thinking 'bout our mothers and the men that they raised
How we stumbled into manhood, on a road that's unpaved
Some say with age comes wisdom. I think not
Cause as I get older I just shake delusions off
This ain't booze talkin' homey, I hope you doing good
You took me under your wing like an older brother would
Damn, I should have been there when your whole world shook
Heard the cancer's eating her bones, I wondered 'bout your outlook
You shrugged it off, or so it seemed and remained normal
Stayed strong for your fam, your pain remained dormant
Mourned in your own way, you? You here lifeline
Patched your spirits back up. Respect death's design
That's life I guess, you make no excuses
So I stencil in your hurt, these words will see you through it

[Hook]

[Bridge]
When the fan's and the shows and the girls go away
Take a look around, what remains is the day
Put it in a song just to give my life away
To you, for you, to you, for you
When the sun and the stars and the moon fades away
Take a look around, what remains is the day
Put it in a song just to give my life away
To you, for you, to you, for you

[Verse 3]
Why we hurt those we care about, just to protect them
In the name of love, unsaid words become weapons
You say I don't communicate, just stay mum and stare
I'm so selfish, I'd rather talk to drum kicks and snares
And you're tired. Losing patience in this negative space
.........see what I'm saying
Silences, shoulder shrugs, we froze each other out
For weeks on end, had me sleeping on the couch
Till we both got sick, and you got up out the house
Babygirl, it's been August since you left
I ain't a changed man yet, I got no promises left
To all the women that I love, who love me back though I fail 'ya
Who understand a calm sea never makes a skilled sailor
That's life I guess, you make no excuses
So I stencil in your hurt these words will see you through it

[Hook]
Track Name: I Made It
[Verse 1]
(Hey I Made it) through the stress through the pain
through the mess that remains, so what really changed?
Respect for that pain, etched in my brain
Sketched all that strain, in a song saying
(Hey I Made it) through the worst when I came
'89 off the plane, cause the language that I'm saying
so strange to those cats who tried to jump me on the train
but if they came from where I came, they'd be saying
(Hey I Made it) to American terrain
home of the fortunate, arrogant and vain
the shame that came with this improbable name
lived my life through the strife, went against the grain
(Hey I Made it) with two dollars to my name
from the squalor where the squatters, holler in the rain
all their daughters and their fathers steady calling for some change
but the only thing that changed is this saying
(Hey I Made it) without the fortune and fame
through them doors where remorse is the fortune of the day
where morsels is portioned, get orphaned in this game
and the only thing to raise it hope coursing through these veins

[Hook]

Verse 2:
(Hey I Made it) cause of Bam and Planet Rock
'cause Melle Mel added math to this language, ack
'cause rap came and salvaged, my damaged, bandaged heart
when I left a famished spot and re-canvassed my plot
(Hey I Made it) through the transatlantic cross
Landed on this rock, where it's standard to get robbed
Or shot or stabbed or, hung upon a cross
for props or cash, when you standing in your spot
(Hey I Made it) for the land of the lost
where they stranded on the block, granted that its hot
cause the cops got their hands on the hammers and the glocks
go, (rrrah, rrhah) that's the language, that's the talk
(Hey I Made it) for them dancers on 'ya crotch
saying that you handsome, even when you not
cause she raise a little man that's lampin' on a cot
and she's sick of feedin' him pudding when the bananas rot

[Verse 3]
(Hey I Made it) for ladies who love rap
for dudes who love that and run up their club tabs
for cats who bought wack tracks and want their funds back
for them rhymes on ya walls, posted on with thumb tacks
(Hey I Made it) for the love of Sun Splash
for New Yorkers in Yankee blue, fitted snug caps
for my Cali folks, bumpin' this to a dub sack
from the jump black, sayin you sprayin' that drumtrack
(Hey I Made it) all for you so you could true it
even if you different, life's emotions are congruent
fluid, dudes say I'm sick with the music
but who did the beat, Zeeb said
(Hey I Made it) for my big brother Charles
for Paul C, Dilla, and Mister Marley Marl
with snares and kicks with my man I call Chirag
and we'll do it till we make it man, Double extra large