| I want to be as free as the spirits of those who left | |
| I'm talking Malcom, Coltrane, my man Yusef | |
| Through death through conception | |
| New breath and resurrection | |
| For moms, new steps in her direction | |
| In the right way told inside is where the fight lay | |
| And everything a nigga do may not be what he might say | |
| Chicago nights stay, stay on the mind | |
| But I write many lives and lay on these lines | |
| Wave the signs of the times many say the grind is on the mind | |
| Shorties blunted eyed and everyone wonderin' where I'm | |
| Bush pushing lies, killers immortalized | |
| We got arms but won't reach for the skies | |
| Waiting for the Lord to rise, I look into my daughter's eyes | |
| And realize that I'ma learn through her | |
| The Messiah, might even return through her | |
| If I'ma do it, I gotta change the world through her | |
| Furs and a Benz, grams wantin' 'em | |
| Demons and old friends, pops they hauntin' him | |
| The chosen one from the land of the frozen sun | |
| When drunk nights get remembered more than sober ones | |
| Walk like warriors, we were never told to run | |
| Explored the world to return to where my soul begun | |
| Never looking back or too far in front of me | |
| The present is a gift | |
| And I just wanna be |
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