Saul Williams Album

Now I wasn't raised at gunpoint
And I've read too many books
To distract me from the mirror
When unhappy with my looks

And I ain't got proper diction
For the makings of a thug
Though I grew up in the ghetto
And my niggers all sold drugs

And though that may validate me
For a spot on MTV
Or get me all the airplay
That my bank account would need

I was hoping to invest in
A lesson that I learned
I thought this fool had jumped me
Just because it was my turn

I went to an open space
Because I knew he wouldn't do it
If somebody there could see him
Or somebody else might prove it

And maybe in your eyes
It may seem I got punked out
Because I walked a narrow path
And then went and changed my route

But that openness exposed me
To a truth I couldn't find
In the clenched fists of my ego
Or the confines of my mind

In the hip-ness of my swagger
Or the swagger in my step
Or the scowl of my grimace
Or the mean-ness of my rep

Because we represent a truth son
That changes by the hour
And when you open to it
Vulnerability is power

And in that shifting form you'll find a truth that doesn't change
And that truth's living proof
Of the fact that god is strange

Talk to strangers
When family fails and friends lead you astray
And Buddha laughs and Jesus weeps and turns out god is gay

As angels and messiahs love can come in many forms
In the hallways of your projects or the fat girl in your dorm

And when you finally take the time to see what they're about
And perhaps you find them lonely or their wisdom trips you out

Maybe you'll find when cycles end
You're back where you began
But come this time around
You'll have someone to hold your hand

Who prays for you who's there for you
Who sends you love and light
Exposes you to parts of you
That you once tried to fight

And come this time around
You choose to walk a different path
You'll embrace what you turned away
And cry at what you laughed

Because that's the only way
We're going to make it through this storm
Where ignorance is common sense
And senselessness, the norm

And flags waive high above the truth
And the two never touch,
And stolen goods are overpriced
And freedom costs too much

And no one seems to recognize
The symbols come to life
The bitten apple on the screen
And Jesus had a wife

And she was his messiah
Like that stranger may be yours
Who holds a subtle knife
That carves through worlds like magic doors

And that's what I've been looking for
The bridge from then to now
Just watching B.E.T like what the fuck son
This is foul

But that square box can't represent
This sphere that we live in
The Earth is not a flat screen
I ain't trying to fit in

But this ain't for the underground
This here is for the Sun
A seed a stranger gave to me
And planted on my tongue

And when I look at you
I know I'm not the only one
As a great man once said
There's nothing more powerful
Than an idea.
Whose time.
Has come.

I gave hip hop to white boys when nobody was looking.
They found it locked in a basement when they gentrified Brooklyn.
I left a list of instructions, an MPC and a mic, my sci-fi library, and utensils to write.
Right or wrong, I think hip hop is where it belongs.
Where it comes from is one, but, son, we wrote them songs.
It was a ploy. Got fools tied up with mechanized toys.
We are beings of breath, beyond the beings of boys.

Now, you can break all you wanna.
Scratch all you wanna.
Graff all you wanna.
Laugh all you wanna.
But I want to show you what the stars are made of.
I want to show you the stars. So substitute the anger and oppression with guilt and depression and it's yours.

White boys listen to white boys.
Black boys listen to black boys.
No one listens to no one.
No one listens to no one.
Alone on a mountain top,
uprooted from the earth.
Drifting beyond normalcy.
A gold piece in God's purse is worthless here.
We're Earthless here. God versus fear.
Man versus fear. Fear not.
I purse my lips and kiss like a glock.
Violence is a metaphor for victory's plot.
Change is inevitable, but our death is not.
Now, you can break all you wanna. Scratch all you wanna.
Graff all you wanna. Laugh all wanna.
But I want to show you what the stars are made of.
I want to show you the stars.
So substitute the anger and
oppression with guilt and depression and it's yours.

I'm falling up flights of stairs, scraping myself from the sidewalk, jumping from rivers to bridges, drowning in pure air.

Hip Hop is lying on the side of the road, half dead to itself. Blood scrawled over its mangled flesh, like jazz, stuffed into an oversized record bag.

Tuba lips swollen beyond recognition. Diamond studded teeth strewn like rice at karma's wedding.

The ring bearer bore bad news. Minister of information wrote the wrong proclamation. Now everyone's singing the wrong song.

Dissonant chords find necks like nooses. That nigga kicked the chair from under my feet. Harlem shaking from a rope, but still on beat.

"Damn that loop is tight." That nigga found a way to sample the way the truth the light. Can't wait to play myself at the party tonight.

Niggas are gonna die. Cop car swerves to the side of the road. Hip Hop takes its last breath.

The cop scrawls vernacular manslaughter onto a yellow pad, then balls the paper into his hand, deciding he'd rather free-style.

"You have the right to remain silent." You have the right to remain silent. And maybe you should have maybe you should have before your bullshit manifested.

These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out. Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out.

This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that. This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black.

So where my aliens at? Girl, we're all illegal. This system ain't for us. It's for rich people.

And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money. But you can't buy shit to not get hungry.

Telegram to Hip Hop: Dear Hip Hop .(stop). This shit has gone too far. (stop). Please see that turntables and mixer are returned to Kool Herc. (stop). The ghettos are dancing off beat. (stop). The master of ceremonies have forgotten that they were once slaves and have neglected the occasion of this ceremony. (stop). Perhaps we should not have encouraged them to use cordless microphones, for they have walked too far from the source and are emitting a lesser frequency (stop). Please inform all interested parties that cash nor murder have been included to the list of elements. (stop). We are discontinuing our line of braggadocio, in light of the current trend in "realness". (stop). As an alternative, we will be confiscating weed supplies and replacing them with magic mushrooms, in hopes of helping niggas see beyond their reality. (stop). Give my regards to Brooklyn.

These thugs can't fuck with me, they're too thugged out. Niggas think I'm bugged out, 'cause I ain't Sean John or Lugged out.

This ain't hip hop no more, son, it's bigger than that. This ain't ghetto no more, black, it's bigger than black.

So where my aliens at? Girl, we're all illegal. This system ain't for us. It's for rich people. And you ain't rich, dawg, you just got money. But you can't buy shit to not get hungry.

This is a call out to all the youth in the ghettos, suburbs, villages, townships. To all the kids who download this song for free. By any means. To all the kids short on loot but high on dreams. To all the kids watching T.V., like, "Yo, I wish that was me." And all the kids pressing rewind on Let's Get Free. I hear you. To all the people within the sound of my voice.

Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.
Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.

I didn't vote for this state of affairs. My emotional state's got me prostrate, fearing my fears. In all reality I'm under prepared. 'Cause I'm ready for war but not sure if I'm ready to care. And that's why I'm under prepared. 'Cause I'm ready to fight, but most fights got me fighting back tears. 'Cause the truth is really I'm scared. Not scared of the truth, but just scared of the length you'll go to fight it. I tried to hold my tongue, son. I tried to bite it. I'm not trying to start a riot or incite it. 'Cause Brutus is an honorable man. It's just coincidence that oil men would wage war on an oil rich land. And this one goes out to my man, taking cover in the trenches with a gun in his hand, then gets home and no one flinches when he can't feed his fam. But Brutus is an honorable man.

Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.
Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.

If you have tears prepare to shed them now. For you share the guilt of blood spilt in accordance with the Dow Jones. Dow drops fresh crop skull and bones. A machete in the heady: Hutu, Tutsi, Leone. An Afghani in a shanty. Doodle dandy yank on! An Iraqi in Gap khaki. Coca Coma come on! Be ye bishop or pawn, in the streets or the lawn, you should know that these example could go on and on and what sense does it make to keep your ears to the street? As long as oils in the soil, truth is never concrete. So we dare to represent those with the barest of feet. 'Cause the laws to which we're loyal keep the soil deplete. It's our job to not let history repeat.

Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.
Spit for the hated, the reviled, the unrefined, the no ones, the nobodies, the last in line.

So here's the plan. The ides of march are always at hand. And when the power hungry strike, they strike the poorest of man. And if you dare put up a fight, they'll come and fight for your land. And they'll call it liberation or salvation. A call to the youth! Your freedom ain't so free, it's just loose. but the power of your voice could redirect every truth. Shift and shape the world you want and keep your fears in a noose. Let them dangle from a banner star spangled. I'm willing and able. To lift my dreams up out of their cradle. Nurse and nurture my ideals 'til they're much more than a fable. I can be all I can be and do much more than I'm paid to. And I won't be a slave to what authorities say do. My desire is to live within a nation on fire, where creative passions burn and raise the stakes ever higher. Where no person is addicted to some twisted supplier who promotes the sort of freedom sold to the highest buyer. We demand a truth naturally at one with the land, not a plant that photosynthesizes bombs on demand, or a search for any weapons we let fall from our hands. I got beats and a plan. I'm gonna do what I can. And what you do is question everything they say do, every goal ideal or value they keep pushing on you. If they ask you to believe it question whether it's true. If they ask you to achieve, is it for them or for you. You're the one they're asking to go carry a gun. Warfare ain't humanitarian. You're scaring me, son. Why not fight to feed the homeless, jobless, fight inflation?! Why not fight for our own healthcare and our education?! And instead, invest in that erasable lead, 'cause their twisted propaganda can't erase all the dead. And the pile of corpses pyramid on top of our heads. Or nevermind, said the shotgun to the head.

I want my money back.
I'm down here drowning in your fat.
You got me on my knees praying for everything you lack.
I ain't afraid of you.
I'm just a victim of your fear.
You cower in your tower praying that I'll disappear,
I got another plan,
one that requires me to stand.
On the stage or in the street, don't need no microphone or beat.
And when you hear this song,
if you ain't dead then sing along.
Bang and strum to these here drums til you get where you belong.

I got a list of demands
written on the palm of my hands.
I ball my fist and you're gonna know where I stand.
We're living hand to mouth!
You wanna be somebody? See somebody? Try and free somebody?
I gotta list of demands
written on the palm of my hands.
I ball my fist and you're gonna know where I stand.
We're living hand to mouth! Hand to mouth!

I wrote a song for you today while I was sitting in my room.
I jumped up on my bed today and played it on a broom.
I didn't think that it would be a song that you would hear,
but when I played it in my head, I made you reappear.
I wrote a video for it and I acted out each part.
Then I took your picture out and taped it to my heart.
I've taped you to my heart dear girl, I've taped you to my heart
and if you pull away from me you'll tear my life apart..

I got a list of demands
written on the palm of my hands.
I ball my fist and you're gonna know where I stand.
We're living hand to mouth!
You wanna be somebody? See somebody? Try and free somebody?
I gotta list of demands
written on the palm of my hands.
I ball my fist and you're gonna know where I stand.
We're living hand to mouth! Hand to mouth!

Ecstacy, suffering,
Echinacea, bufferin.
We aim to remember what we choose to forget.
God's just a baby
and her diaper is wet.

Call the police!
I'm strapped to the teeth
and liable to disregard your every belief.
Call on the law!
I'm fixin' to draw
a line between what is and seems and call up a brawl.
Call'em up now!
'cause it's about to go pow!
I'm standing on the threshold of the ups and the downs.
Call up a truce!
'cause I'm about to bust loose.
Protect ya neck,'cause, son, I'm breaking out of my noose.

I got a list of demands
written on the palm of my hands.
I ball my fist and you're gonna know where I stand.
We're living hand to mouth!
You wanna be somebody? See somebody? Try and free somebody?
I gotta list of demands
written on the palm of my hands.
I ball my fist and you're gonna know where I stand.
We're living hand to mouth! Hand to mouth!

Freedom, ignorance, jealousy, belligerence, anger, self-control, tolerance, to and fro, wisdom, ecstacy, addiction, dependency, discipline, counter act, pray for peace, then attack. Dominance. Contradict. Upper class derelict. Downgrade. Downsize. Upstate. Uprise.

Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me where my nigga at?

Downtown. On the block. At the club. Steaming hot. Dancing. Talking shit. Telling lies. Like a pimp. Meanwhile, underpaid. Read like, second grade. Uncle Sam, sign you up. Benefits. And a gun.

Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me where my nigga at?

African People. African people. African People. African People.
Shotgun. Shotgun. Shotgun. Shotgun.

Rise up. Over-stand. Stand your ground. Own your land. Serve all. Love all. Never sleep. Never fall. Meditate. Eat right. Pray first. Then fight. But for truth. Not for fame. Not for glory. Or the game.

Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me where my nigga at?

African People. African people. African People. African People.
Shotgun. Shotgun. Shotgun. Shotgun.

Liberia. Iraq. Dark brown. Light black. South Africa. Mozambique. Mud hut. Concrete. AIDS ridden. Heart disease. Strange fruit. Southern trees. Sierre Leone. Diamond mines. Cameroon. Pipe lines. Port au Prince. Salvadore. Civil right. Civil war. Zimbabwe. Trenchtown. Money makin'. Queens bound. BX. Shaolin. Uptown. Brooklyn. Upstate. Newburgh. Unseen. Unheard.

Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me, where my niggas at? Now tell me where my nigga at?

African People. African people. African People. African People.
Shotgun. Shotgun. Shotgun. Shotgun.

I used to hump my pillow at night.
The type of silent prayer to make myself prepare for the light.
Me and my cousin Duce would rank the girls between one and ten
and the highest number got to be my pillows pretend.
Now I apologize to every high ranker.
But you taught me how to dream and so I also thank ya.
I never had the courage to approach you at school.
We joked around a lot and I know you thought I dressed cool.
But I was just covering up all the insecurities that came bubbling up.
My complexion had me stuck in an emotional rut,
like the time you Flavor Flaved me and you played me Yo Chuck,
they say you're too black,
man I think I'm too black.
Mom, do you think I'm too black? I think I'm too black.
I think I'm too black.
I think I'm too black. Black Black Black Black.

Black Stacey.
They called me Black Stacey.
I never got to be myself 'cause to
myself I always was Black Stacey, in polka dots
and paisley, a double goose
and bally shoes, you thought it wouldn't phase me.
I was Black Stacey.
the preachers' son from Haiti
who rhymed a lot and always got the dance steps at the party.
I was Black Stacey.
you thought it wouldn't phase me, but it did 'cause I was just a kid.

I used to use bleaching creme, 'til Madame CJ Walker walked into my dreams.
I dreamt of being white and
complimented by you, but the only shiny black thing that you liked was my shoes.
Now, I apologize for bottling up
all the little things you said that warped my head and my gut.
Even though I always told you not to
brag about the fact that your great grand
mother was raped by her slave master. Yeah, I became
militant too.
So it was clear on every level I was blacker than you.
I turned you on to Malcolm X and
Assata Shakur in my three quarter elephant goose with the fur.
I had the high top fade
with the steps on the side.
I had the two finger ring, rag top on the ride.
I had the sheep skin, name
belt, Lee suit, Kangol, acid wash Vasco, chicken and waffle.

Black Stacey.
They called me Black Stacey.
I never got to be myself 'cause to
myself I always was Black Stacey, in polka dots
and paisley, a double goose
and bally shoes, you thought it wouldn't phase me.
I was Black Stacey.
the preachers' son from Haiti
who rhymed a lot and always got the dance steps at the party.
I was Black Stacey.
you thought it wouldn't phase me, but it did 'cause I was just a kid.

Now here's a little
message for you.
All you baller playa's got some insecurities too,
that you could cover up, bling it up, cash in and ching ching it up,
hope no one will bring it up,
lock it down and string it up.
Or you can share your essence with us,
'cause everything about you couldn't be rugged and ruff.
And even though you tote a
glock and you're hot on the
streets, if you dare to share your heart, we'll nod a head to
its beat.
And you should do that, if nothing else, to prove
that a player like you could keep it honest and true. Don't mean to call your bluff but
mothafucka that's what I do.
You got platinum chain
then, son, I'm probably talking to you.
And you can call your gang, your posse and the rest of your crew.
And while you're at it get them addicts and the indigent too. I plan to have a whole army
by the time that I'm through to load their guns with songs they haven't sung
Like

Black Stacey.
They called me Black Stacey.
I never got to be myself 'cause to
myself I always was Black Stacey, in polka dots
and paisley, a double goose
and bally shoes, you thought it wouldn't phase me.
I was Black Stacey.
the preachers' son from Haiti
who rhymed a lot and always got the dance steps at the party.
I was Black Stacey.
you thought it wouldn't phase me, but it did 'cause I was just a kid.

Black Stacey.
They called me Black Stacey.
I never got to be myself 'cause to
myself I always was Black Stacey
They called me Black Stacey
Ah! Black Stacey!
Ooh! Black Stacey!
Move Black Stacey!
Groove Black Stacey!
Shake Black Stacey!
Make Black Stacey cry!
Cry!
No not I.

Ain't from the streets of Compton.
Ain't from no prison yard.
Ain't got no guns or weapons.
Hell, nigga, I ain't hard.
I'd rather help than fight you.
I'd rather hug than swing.
I know where diamonds come from
and ain't about to bling.
Ain't got no fancy car.
I can't afford my rent.
Ain't even got my own style.
Sometimes I'm 50 Cent.
But I ain't got not bullets.
And I ain't bullet proof.
And you can take your aim,
but you can't kill the truth.
Ay, yo, untie that noose.
Son, we ain't free, we're loose.
I'm sleeping on the floor above
your party's burning roof.
And when that party's through,
here's what you need to do.
Just hold that mic right to your heart
and hear the beat of you.
I got a heart beat produced by
God, and, boy, it sounds hard.
I got heart beat produced by God, and, boy, it sounds hard.

Well, there're two ways I can say this
And one would be: fuck you!
And there're no two ways around it
Because one would be untrue.

Because I love everything about you.
But I don't want to be around you

If you control my heart will you control my brain?
If I give in to you, will it still feel the same?
'Cause I want nothing more than to be here with you
If you fulfill my dreams, will that fulfill you too?

I need a second.
I need a second to think.
I need a second.

Now, the other way to play this
Would be mellow, light, and, cool
Poetry and meditation
Higher ground and higher truth.

Because I love everything about you
But I use everything to doubt you

If you control my heart will you control my brain?
If I give in to you, will it still feel the same?
'Cause I want nothing more than to be here with you.
If you fulfill my dreams, will that fulfill you too?

I need a second.
I need a second to think.
I need a second.

I found the spot where truth echoes and know each beauty mark by heart.
But I just can't keep her still enough to render perfect art.
'Cause the truth is ever changing and although she loves my touch,
I've had my way, but I when I pray, she kisses back too much.
And it's hard to feel real gangster when you're always getting kissed.
But you jump at every pucker, 'cause your fear of getting dissed.
I try not to fight the parts of me that want to kiss her back.
Egos should be illegal. Mine just don't know how to act.
He tells me I don't need her. I should walk this path alone.
She's make believe. She's up my sleeve.
I'd do better with a clone.
But could it be It seems to me that she's my other half.
My inner-Tarzan monkey girl, raised mainly by giraffes.
And besides she makes me laugh.
'Cause deep down I think she's stupid.
But deeper down, I'm just a clown starting bar room brawls with cupid,
like, "Fuck that naked baby angel, doll and gimme 2 more buttery nipples".
And God just re-invents herself as ice-cubes in my ripple.

I know that you've
woken up and found yourself
within a world of questions,
where the answers come and go.
And I know you don't want
sit around and hear
no asinine suggestions
when the truth just can't be told.

But if I may,
I got a thing or two to say.
Although the answers are not clear,
there's not a thing that you should fear,
because the answers to it all whether things rise or when they fall,
you'll find the truth remains the same and that truth is that God is change.

Hey you! You can talk about talk about talk about it,
but you can't control your destiny.
I think that God is testing me.
Hey you! You can talk about it talk about it talk about it,
but you can't control your destiny.
You just might fail successfully.

I'm alone.
And I thought God created you for me.
How could it be that it can't be?
So alone.
And I don't know what to do with myself.
And I don't know what I'm would do.
Hey you! I thought that you were my destiny.
Girl, I thought we were meant to be.
Can't I choose what's best for me?

Hey you!
I thought you were my destiny.
Girl, I thought were meant to be.
Don't I know what's best for me?
Hey you!
You can talk about talk about talk about it,
but you can't control your destiny.
I think that God is testing me.

Hey you!
You can talk about it talk about it talk about it,
but you can't control your destiny.
You just might fail successfully.
You can't control your destiny.
You can't control your destiny.
You can't control.

I drive a yellow Volvo. '86 submarine. Someone's behind me in an escalade trying to blind me with their high beams. I make a left. I'm the road to nowhere, heading west. The sky is purple streaks. The sun is setting in my chest. I feel warm inside. So I'm going for a ride. Put your picture on my dashboard 'til my fate and your collides.

Seaweed washed upon the shore.
Severed locks of he who walks the ocean floor.

I drive a yellow Volvo. '86 submarine. Rims like Tibetan prayer wheels and my tank is filled with dreams. Fuck the game, I practice being in the passing lane. And watch the price of gasoline rise with the price of fame. I'm immortal. I render unto Ceasar to be cordial. He sees a wooden casket where I see a glowing portal. Check your engine. Looks like you're running on the blood of Indians. Put some turquoise in that rolls Royce before you crash into a pendulum.

Seaweed washed upon the shore.
Severed locks of he who walks the ocean floor.

I drive a yellow Volvo. '86 submarine. I drove it under water guided by my own high beams. Nothing's left. Witnessed the demolition of the west. I feel like a little kid hiding in my mothers' dress. I'm in space. The lone ambassador of every race. The starfish that discover me plant their flags into my face. I'm a clone of every written and unwritten poem. A shark pulls up beside me fingering beads and chanting om. I can't believe it. I never really thought that sharks would need it. I thought they'd make their peace: bite it, bleed it, kill it, eat it. But I was wrong. Every living being deserves a song. And our passions must be rationed 'til our rations sing along.

something is dying tonight.
there will be no more breath and no more light
I've burned every candle and extinguished every fear
and I've waited for your time to pass
to bring in my new year

something is dying tonight
there will be no more struggle
no more fight
and I've known that I'd have to live through suffering and
youth but I'm the landlord of my dreams now and
my tenets rent is due.

something is dying
something is dying inside of me
in spite of me
something is dying tonight
my old paddles off to Saturn
taking flight and the astronaut within me
has no air supply at all so
he's plunging into the deep sea
with no parachute to fall

something is dying tonight
I can't eat and I can't sleep
so I just write cause
I wanted you to lean on
To distract me from my feet
oh my karma will cure me
out of bounds and out of reach

something is dying
something is dying inside of me
in spite of me
something is dying
something is dying inside of me
in spite of me

author of winds of change, phantom of the opera
tenor of the octet frame spews volcanic lava
silent heart of the sun not just the world of interest
sun retires calls it a day and sleeps a hundred winters
darkness echoes thunder cries and wagers war of laughter
dolphins come form sea and sky and the here after
bumble bees crawl to the tops of trees and call out to the children
little girl awakes from dream as Elvis leave the building
Elvis leaves the building
Elvis leaves the building
Elvis leaves the building
Elvis leaves the building
Down poor from the darkest cloud and humiliated attention
flasher of the third leads him to the fourth dimension
shotgun rings across a plan down goes another line
Harlem church cries sing refrain; a margin of design