[Intro]
[?]
I been- I been telling mad stories
Is it cool if I tell a little bit of my story?
Yeah
Alright, I'm all nervous, but here's my rap
[Verse 1]
God parted clouds, a baby came out with major style
Momma pushed him out
So helpless with heart that’s filled with doubt
Never fitting in, somehow he got used to sticking out
Soar thumbs giving out from these things that he’s written 'bout
Opened up his mouth, but nobody cared what he spitting 'bout
He did bad in school, so moms was giving them whippings out
She knew he had drive, but he was going a different route
So that’s when she kicked him out, had to live in different house
Pops was a rapper, so he imagined that he could vouch for that lifestyle
Where music he couldn’t live without
Double right click fruity loops, produce with a broken mouse
Recorded a rap over that, but guess what is spoken 'bout?
Money, money, money, gun bars, and getting women
Had the lyrics and the rhythm yet, and still he had no vision
Father said, "Produce, son- spitting just ain’t where ya gift is"
So he challenged him and big brother on a song
Thought he ripped it, but he didn’t
Big brother clowned him, and it made him hate himself
Big brother stopped laughing, and told him, "Don’t ever play yourself
You can’t make it rapping about ladies, RPGs, and wealth- leave that on the shelf
Pick up this pad, and just be yourself"
[Chorus]
I’ve been trying to make it clearer
Who is that I see in the mirror
Who can I be if it’s not me?
Who can I be if it’s not me?
God ain’t put this soul in nobody else
Only thing that’s left to do is be yourself
[Verse 2]
He moved back, had to switch states back to NJ
Yeah, he still rapped, but he folded clothes to get pay
Then he did the math on min wage, like no way
He can’t obey a 9 to 5, if no rent paid
So he was in school, with a mixtape he would display
But he got discouraged from hearsay, when his friends hate
He was slaving like Kunte Kente, but them say
He wasn’t never gone be nothing, not even midway famous
He just wanted to be appreciated, so he walked up to somebody like
"Homie I’m not the greatest, but I got a lil' tape for 5 dollars, and I made it
All the beats and all the lyrics engineered it so just play it"
That guy put his hands out like he was ready to take it
Smile faded from his face, and then he slapped the tape away and said
“Get that outta here, your music weak, get out my face
You're a disgrace, you SoundCloud rapper, you’re never going to be great”
A couple days and a year later, he had his first show
Super nervous 'bout his verses, could he murk it with the flow?
Brother called and asked, “You ready?”, so he told him “I don’t know”
He said "Samad, you a savage- let them have it, you a pro
If you plan on going big and want to travel all the globe
Then this show the first of many, show them what you got in store"
A hundred something shows later, million streams and getting dough
And that kid that dissed him, asking for a feature on his phone
[Chorus]
I’ve been trying to make it clearer (See where being yourself gets you?)
Who is that I see in the mirror
Who can I be if it’s not me?
Who can I be if it’s not me?
God ain’t put this soul in nobody else
Only thing that’s left to do is be yourself
I’ve been trying to make it clearer (Bully, bully, bully, you can't ever pull me down)
Who is that I see in the mirror (Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never make me drown)
Who can I be if it’s not me? (You throw objects at my head, it just develops as a crown)
Who can I be if it’s not me? (Call me names, and gather 'round)
God ain’t put this soul in nobody else (I turned that into a crown)
Only thing that’s left to do is be yourself
