Forever dreaming, wishing on a star for help. I give a nigger food for thought, he rather starve himself. Apart from wealth I think it was the shine that got us blinded. Not sure of what we reading when we signing our life away. They say ignorance is bliss, but I’d like to stay. The game is just not records and real shit they don’t like to play. You ghetto famous to us, you just Bojangles to them. Tap yo feet, tip yo brim. And sell it back to yo kin. I don’t rap I spit hymns. My God’s bigger than them. Tryin’ to blacken your heart, and say we children of men. I sin cause I ain’t perfect
But I rather save your life than hurt it; if I made it.
…But I’m scared it all ain’t enough to free my soul."
- Big. K.R.I.T.