Marlon Craft - Halal

Oh my god a lot of y’all just want
Some shit to critique
But your ass can’t listen in
The midst of a speech
As long as the cool table
Still got limited seats
And you try and argue your way in
You’ll be sitting with sheep
Yeah, we so quick to just speak
Addicted to peaks
But life lived in the middle is sweet
Chasin' highs, avoiding lows
Never time to even learn
Usually ones gettin' louder don’t
Even believe their words i’m from New York
We was taught not to feed the birds
But ain’t a hungry pigeon in sight these days
Politely, hey the shit we giving hype be fake
I wonder lotta days
What good is progression if it’s
All built on lies?
Lost our ability to evaluate
Need to re-calibrate
I read your lil' tweets
I think your passion fake everyone want eat
But it’s rare that they want have
The stakes that I have embraced
Man, have a plate
Or keep acting like the shit don’t matter
Actin' like we ain’t the blueprint
For the kids goin' after
Actin' like we ain’t the ones who
Made it cool to not know
And not try and not grow as
Long as you got hoes, right?
I feel responsibility to
Declare you’re flopping
And I do my duty free like airport shopping
Won’t take the culture name in vain
You a junkie arm dudes just want be liked
Even if that means they want be wrong
Claim they cold, but that’s fear, they
Present the same shivering, covering up
Unrelenting games yeah, they want the fame
They don’t wan’t the pain
They wanna be Marlon
They don’t wanna work at the other name
Mission to avoid the cubicle
Turned to a calling
I ball and I’m musical, Esperanza Spalding
Yeah, I’m the best out, debate your mother
She probably saw me on MSNBC and loved it
I’d rather have these dialogues
Within the culture
But this payola these days is undercover
I guess it ain’t payola when
The shit’s the whole structure
Like the same thing on the table
Is somehow better than under
I shout shit they ain’t got
The balls to utter
Appalled, disgusted how I live
I don’t know how you ain’t
The money’s there but the value ain’t
I run circles round you dudes
Til I’m out of shape
So fuck you and your lil pouty face
No one ever cared about mine
I had to prove I wasn’t pussy
Every day my whole life
If they look at me like a
Trust-fund baby one more time
I might slap the shit out your face
Open hand so you overstand
You ain’t worth the risk of a broken hand
Only spend time with my people
Really know the plan
You just fear this lion cause
All you know is lamb
And that ain’t halal, brother
That ain’t halal, brother
You talking to the God

Written by:
ANDREW ARCHER, KEVIN THEODORE, MARLON CIRKER

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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