You Don't Know - Jean Grae

Black people raise up, anger management cases to the front line

Your day’s up, children, I hope you didn’t quit your day jobs

Been in it, hosting shit like Canadian Asians host SARS

I’m kidding, no really pa, you’re fibbing, you rented your car

I’m spilling these phrases like seizure waitresses holding trays

This is greatness, the most endangered species on the playlist

Hey pay this, you fucks

No need to pay for a facelift you sluts

You slept, stupid I’m more dangerous than Michael’s face is

I cut through it like a machete’s built on my tongue

Leave you stitched up like Eeyore with your teeth all gums, you weak whore

The meek inherits now, but I speak veteran prose

Like I’m Tom Cruise in a wheelchair with my pants all sewn

Now how many times do I need to explain

You faggot Hannibal Lecter niggas, you all eat brain

I will damage your whole system, hack into your mainframe

Crack your bones like I’m cracking computer codes, I am not playing

I am not done spraying nigga, give me my mic back

Don’t ever, ever, ever try some shit even like that

I’m a con artist, a schemer, a dealer, a dope

That you feed to your ears through the speakers and feel it 'til it’s leaking

out your throat

Teacher, preacher, city-wide spelling champ

Your girl felt it so much, she started doing a bellydance

I’m heavy man, like an ACME safe in a cartoon

I’ll drop-catch you man, I’ll slam right into your car roof

I’m nasty, the antithesis of this mastery

Keep feeding you and feeding you with buckets of candy

Hand ransom notes to all cops at random

With the planted remote in the throat of the kidnapped grandson

For how many grams, one

Wait 'til they’re in range, then pull the little chain

Clothesline them just in time to see the boy’s exploding brains

I’m sick, I need help, I climb inside of a track

I tell them, I know what I’m doing those aren’t snares, those are slaps

One slap, two slaps, three slaps, four

Then I spaz out and stab — forget what the fuck I was counting for

Don’t fuck with me, please I’m asking nicely, back off

Put thumbtacks in my hands and grab your nuts, nigga cough

You don’t understand Jean, never in your life seen

A girl with more flow than an Iraqi soldier’s canteens

More ignored than a homeless on a train begging for change

More credit due to me than a store that doesn’t exchange

In Cali, rip ya mayne, New York, damage ya dog

Get on a plane, la voy aca el encima in Spain

I’m dead wrong, too smart to be beefing with little tarts

Jean turn your scream into murmurs like an irregular heartbeat

Hardly the amateur, can’t wait for the album tour

Fall come, I’m bringing the malice straight to your campus floor

Manhandle y’all, in France I’m Jean Van-Damnit

All writing hard like carving the Twelfth Commandment, naw

I didn’t skip one cause Biggie penned the eleventh

A moment of silence for all the fallen soldiers in heaven

Now moving along children

I screw with your whole vision like fog in the road, listen

Too hot and you know it, burn like a cock when you go piss

And there’s snot in the hole dripping and you gotta go to the clinic

Hey, I’m just guessing

Jean’s here to level the playing field

I don’t care about your spot or what you got for your record deal

I don’t care about your feelings or your marketing gimmicks

I just rap -- been here, you just wasn’t ready to hear it

I dropped Attack, critics hollered back with a thumbs-up

Exposing those who didn’t -- Oliver Wang, you dumb fuck

Untuck your spine, gun-butt you with a Super Soaker

Make you scream louder than the sound of the background vocals

Choke you with a magazine page, then in a rage

Flip you over like quarters on the back of your arm on Happy Days

I’ve written about life, I spitted about art

I represent the underground cause they’ve been with me from the start

No, Jean’s not hard now, Jean hasn’t changed

I was 18 on the first record, I’ve just experienced the game

Not a thug, not a drug seller, not a gun shooter

Not a stripper, sex symbol, or anything you’re used to

Marketing nightmare, I don’t fit into categories

I just rap, make beats and shit and sleep all these stories

All I want is a voice, all the people need is choice

If there’s no competition then what is the fucking point

You can’t win by default, unless you’re scared of a challenge

It’s not really a fair game if you don’t allow balance

What the fuck is a se… somebody get this woman a drink