Epilogue: Long Jawn Songtext
von Shad

But really I′m sick of rapping
But really i miss the passion
You feel me, i miss the scene
You feel me, i miss the action
I miss touring, miss America, miss the pageant
I'm still married to that dame
Though the game is Mrs. Jackson
Rappers love talking this epic
When we talk about our exit from showbiz
I′m nobody, noticed we left it
Was hedging bets at the school of texas
Holding Rolexes and Lexuses just a second, I got a test
But I'm blessed, got live and learn
Literally, did a term then went to getting earn
Urn, just let it burn
Words I could grow-op
No, I don't mean grow pot
I mean gettin′ that dough tho
I still gotta grow lots
Live real stories, grow plots


They wanted more crops
And grow guap and you find some botox robots to co-op
But y′all know me, dont stop!
I just go off
I stay on point for the heads
This cut's a mohawk, uh
For heads thats headstrong, uh
And head with dreads and white corn rows
Although that′s dead wrong
But listen, this is all inclusive
For all humans, just for y'all amusement
Music for the blue-collared dudes and all the college students
I′m Paul Wall in '05 and I′m car pollution James Harden hoopin'
All meanin' that I′m a problem Houston
Constant nuisance, I cause confusion
Hold on this song′s as long as the constitution
Its just that I've got a lot of thoughts that are hard to explain
I′m trying to try a little tender of the heart and brain
Hard headed thoughts darkened and charred in the flame
I'm talking black, pardon the slang
But the flames like Flocka
Young man always gotta go hard in the paint
We talk foul on offensive, they call charge in the game
But even activists [?] target them chain stores
And get chained to the same war, same arms taking aim
Arm leg leg arm head, we all the same