Talk of Mane & Bruh

[Intro]

(Statik Selektah)

Yeah, uh-huh

[Verse 1: Lukah]

Mane was a wicked nigga scandalous scams, hoppin' out of vans

Pushing contraband through the land, saw the gang firsthand

It's programmed, his Pops would take him riding as he served

With his every word a treat, so Mane sat back and observed

Full of verve until the day he and his Pops quickly swerved into a curb

On that day some say Pop got what he deserved

Mane was unnerved 'cause Pops wouldn't move, no response to his words

The gun burst, hit his shoulder but it must've hit a nerve

'Cause Pops bled out and Mane had to watch, it was the worst

A different type of hurt, so in those southern waters Mane submerged

They fucked him up when this occurred and for Mane life was adverse

And speaking from experience, death can have a brain really disturbed

Trauma Mane on Earth, this instance put a strain on his life

Mane knew wrong from right to get most of his dirt out of spite

Our Mane knew his tribal structure, mother was a village bike

She'd get abused and abused him, Mane had to live the cycle

So Mane's old and still starving, another sister's target

Section eight apartments, Mane's been fucked since Pop got slaughtered

Mother really didn't raise him or love him, never did nothing for him

No affection at all, never kissed him or hugged him

So Mane a hug the blocks and fuck punching the clock

You'd rather rush spots, or take chances, stripping and breaking locks

They said Mane could get rocks, Mane could get pills

Mane could get glass and on the tree he had deals

Mane was a powder junkie, tracks up his arms 'cause of that monkey

Straight fiend but Mane functioned real well when he needed money

Mane was grungy but on one of these days he got unlucky

(Mane) really needed a fix, then fucked around, got left ruddy

With robbery he got too comfy eventually that itch he couldn't resist would make him dummy

Mane brain began decaying, movements became a little sluggy

Mane would take what he stole with the hopes to trade for the white lovely, Mane's a real true druggie

So Mane's made a false decision 'cause Bro don't fuck around

Bro known to keep two glizzies with him

Put long extension in him but

Mane was hoping to catch Bruh slipping

But Bro's one of them niggas that if you get him you got to kill him

But Mane robbed him and left him living

And now the streets are conversating, somehow it got back to Bruh

Word may be laying, Bro excels in house painting, for him murder's exhilarating

And if Bruh don't do something then he pulls up demonstrating

Two Glocks gon' get to erasing

Bruh's the spawn of Satan literally

And little did they know they about to repeat history

But his father was a known kingpin, he had enemies

And he opted to pose a threat, but then murder would be his remedy

It was the reason for Mane's misery and the dog food addiction

But his father didn't like Pops because Pops was the competition

Pops had ambition but Father despised him, some dead admission

But his father chose to kill him to solidify their power position

He knew that Mane would have to bear witness, so Mane was scarred for life now

Let me bring us full circle

Mane thinks he's scot free, but Bruh gon' do him something hurtful

Bruh gon' clip him on sight 'cause Bruh's the type that's non-verbal

Mane called him broad day, but this Bruh is nocturnal

Mane's life had been infernal though his day would soon slipped

Mane chose the wrong road because he didn't read the script

Passed out in his ride, vulnerable on this trip

Bruh popped him like his Pops, left him leakin' in his whip, word

[Outro]

You know, I've often wondered how anybody can think that black people are non-verbal

In fact, we talk a lot, especially to one another

It's a recognized fact that black people have a very strong oral tradition

But many white Americans, as well as some blacks, attach a stigma to the black way of talking, rather than considering it as a rich and patterned dialect of English with its own well-established structure

Right now I'm headed to South Holland, though he got some new shit dropping

Listen to that shit. Hey, man

Hey, what's up man?

I just knocked on my window

I tried to cop a juice man

What's up man? Nothing. Man one. Man

You say, what ain't you? Yo, man

Man, I don't know nothing you talking about right now, bruh

Move around man

Just trying to cop a zip, man

Just say move around, ugly man

Just hold on

I didn't I just say, move around, nigga

Get your ugly federal form and Blart mall cop lookin ass

Back away from me, nigga

I don't know nothing about nothing but some music, huh?

If you ain't bumpin Lukah, move your ass around, lil' bitch ass nigga, man

Get your ass back

Motherfucking secret agent ass nigga

What you the police?

What, you wearing a wire?