BE
The Media Made Me

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They tried to tell me lightning don’t strike twice, I’ll prove it wrong 
I’ll hit you three times before I end this stupid song 
When the fourth comes it’s gonna be the coup de gras 
Like abortion, I don’t see these kids at all 
Grab a ladder if it matters bad to you rappers I’m out of your reach 
Jump, jump out of your seat 
They’d have some battery acid splattered rather than battle me 
Come count the receipt / This crowd wants a feat 
I don’t feel you like a paraplegic 
Guaranteed its therapy to let this out / Don’t care who sees it 
Now repeat / Deadbeat rocks a rhyme as if he wears Adidas 
Its tricky to stop the high but, swear you got to see this

(CHORUS)
They tried to tell me 
They 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me 
They they 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me 
They they 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me my future like the got a crystal ball

For twenty-five hours a day 
For nine days out of the week 
For fifty-nine weeks a year 
Four years straight / bout to hit the fifth 
Let me put it simply kids 
I should be on Ripley’s list 
Its unbelievable / The style’s like
a comet causing craters in the people home 
Chronologically / Time unveils the secret code 
Olly olly oxenfree / they screaming for a peek at joe 
Calling all hammers, spray canners, 
office jockeys talking to the boss holding day planners 
Grab the nearest speakers to you blast the beat 
If you scared to let loose, please, after me

(CHORUS)
They tried to tell me 
They 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me 
They they 
They tried to tell me 
They tried to tell me my future like the got a crystal ball

I can turn a stanza gold / I heard your shit 
You sound like everyone else / Style’s Tony Danza old 
I file down your bars so I can fit my arm in 
to rip your cells apart / Mitosis coming, tell a guard 
Hold your tongue in or sell it hard 
I’ve come to learn that you’re the only one in this world who’s in charge 
Keep your girl in your arms / She’s a pearl with those scars 
Love every single one of them / I’m talking to you rappers on the swag train 
Who knows, maybe y’all never had brains 
We know you lying when you say you stack change 
Unless you talking nickels, quarters, dimes / In that case… 
Make sure you do the math straight 
Now give it back / Thanks 
What you spit is half baked 
More hooks than a fisher but your verses really lack string 
Hip hop? Ya’ll don’t know what that means