Zulu Tolstoy

Wrote a story about a rapper writing
A story rap about his
Shorty trying to rap his way up out the trap
Plenty hoes, gats, run-of-the-mill
But flow ill, Voice old cognac
He'd say "no homo" if this was his track
So I'm writing about him writing
About him writing about that
Felt it fell flat, took a break, but
He kept going like "Sorry, B
I got an album to rap"
Two decent sixteens, chorus cooked crack
Ended up not using it, not like it was wack
Just something off with the hats
Producer caught feelings, took the beat back
Tape bricked bad, he quit, mad
Meanwhile, shorty from his song
Still rapping, buzzin'
This really might happen
Taking meetings in Manhattan
Single has traction
Hip-Hop cops trying to catch him packing
Dusty old warrants dug out file cabinets
That's that good hate
Every time the phone ring
Might could be Drake missed South By
Whitey wouldn't let him out the state
Stayed home at the gate
Wrote a hook on his phone and knew
Right away it was fucking great

"The good book says that he that lives by
The sword shall perish by the sword
Said the black what right man would
Have it any other way?
It makes no difference what men think of
War war endures as well ask
Men what they think of stone war
Was always here before man was
War waited for him"