God bless all the dying breed

I pray for the dying breed

I′d kill for my fucking creedI'd die if it ever needed

It aint a long time, first time i talk, first time i walk it aint a long time

I need to talk, i need to talk, is this the right time? man fuck the right time

I spill em beans and cook it

I dont care if it dont fit

Your mind, your heart man fuck it

Respect to whom that take seat

For a two cents from a kid

If you dont like you may quit

Aye look man, i been thinking bout a certain kind of people i call dying breed

Thats the kind of people that i would bleed for

I lost count on those i knew

Yet dying breed count as a few

The fuck is happening i see super villain in the news, on a daily routine

Theres a thirteen raped by a thirty drugged With some morphine

What the fuck is happening?

Kill the tv then i took my phone, wish that i found a peace somehow i aint surprised

All i find is another decrease

Scrolling pictures of phonies

The fake rich flex

The fake respex

They′d fuck you up

You dont even need sex

Social media effects

Stabbing homies in the back

Bug me like an insect

But still we dont act

Add that to the list add that to the count

At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt

Add that to the list add that to the count

At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt

Get the homies and sing with me

God bless all the dying breed

I pray for the dying breed

I'd kill for my fucking creed

I'd die if it ever needed

Lets take it to the music, lets take it to the basic

Hip hop′s a trend, so they pretend, they think its all about the brand, they wanna blend

I talk they got offended, and now they got defensive

I know they know they fake it, but still they lie, impressive

And would y′all let a boy ask a question?

What happened to music and the passion?

H2O asked this generation?

Panji be cooking in the studio, compose that shit baby hear my audio

Booming booming through the stereo, that shit rising a crescendo

We write, we learn, we true from head to toe

We real, we pay respect too those who know

An homage to bap, to laze to joe

Reciting the truth with rhyme and flow

A mixture of jazz and street poetry

A blend of the soul and speech of the free

A question to ask of what will i be?

Without the music it done possessed me

Add that to the list add that to the count

At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt

Add that to the list add that to the count

At whom i get pissed, at those kind of cunt

Get the homies and sing with me