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Billy Killer
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Jean Grae
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1
[Hook]
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Each morning, my man goes downtown
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Where everyone falls, and he's lost
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In an angry land, he's a little man
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[Verse 1]
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9 A.M., eyeing him
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My eyes widening
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Feeling like it's Groundhog Day, he gotta try again
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Riptide tide with thoughts of retiring
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Pride flies and he wired me some truth and inspirement
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So I can't fail him
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He gets the mail and he's off
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Like a movie trailer with those long roads and it costs
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I wish you could retain the way he's losing his patience
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Fucking transit, travel constantly, the fame motivation
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Check cashing day, knowing my face on the spot
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The bank teller should embrace him when he talks in slots
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And not a day of rest, he walks twenty blocks
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And brings me what the villain's got
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A little money, little presents I could kill 'em rock
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Ready stalking with them, having dark visions of choking [censored]
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And fuck [censored], but of course it's his job
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And he can't understand why I worry so much
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Because he's my man, damn
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[Hook]
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[Verse 2]
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He's busting his ass like figure skaters falling
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Discussing the past label problems, [censored] calling him
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It's my drama he's falling in; my momma, she stalling him
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He's running out the door and she's saying, "Go to the store," and then
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He's rushing out on no food
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I feel him getting close to postal
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Getting robbed by a nigga for ProTools
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And he won't tell me about [censored] in Tennessee
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I swear that nigga's dead -- I could picture the funeral, B
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Hollering like soon he'll be picking jewelry
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I be like, if I was you, I'd be excluding me
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He won't go; he smokes, though, just to get by
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They fuck up his high with phone calls
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I swear to God, I wish he'd snap
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Run up in [censored], stab [censored] in the back
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And flip the table over, take his wallet, kick his throat in
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And leave the knife attached to a note, smoking
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[Hook]
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[Verse 3]
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Man, fuck [censored] and [censored] and [censored]
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Colin ran around for a month and niggas ain't calling
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I hate him going to these meetings, trying to explain
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Why Jean is the next thing; I fiend for the ending
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I scream when he's leaving, man, I hate them
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He doesn't write no more; drawings, he doesn't make them
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Pause, we the relation; calls heeded, forsaken
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All Colin's creative; Lord, how does he make it?
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Naw, I couldn't, maybe, cause Jean's not as good at
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Bottling up feelings, feeling all positive when I shouldn't
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I'm going with him, bringing some basement to it
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In the ass, find a nice place to place my foot in
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But he paces my footing, tries to place the good in
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Keeps the paper chase going, no complaints
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Why shouldn't I worry that what good am I?
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Damn, I'll love the man til I die, c'mon
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[Hook]
Jean Grae - Kill Screen (Official Music ...
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