On the Come Up

Jay’s a people person. I’m more of a “yes, people exist, but that doesn’t mean I need to talk to them” person.

That’s when I learned that when people die, they sometimes take the living with them.

Church is full of people with plenty to say and nothing to do. You’d think some of them would help us instead of talk about us, but I guess it’s easy to say you love Jesus and harder to act like him.

There's only so much you can take being described as somebody you're not.

I've always had this theory that God is a sitcom writer who loves to put me in ridiculous situations.

Unarmed and dangerous, but America, you made us, only time we famous is when we die and you blame us.

Never let yourself drown while trying to save somebody that don't want to be saved.

Look, you can't be worried about what folks think... There will always be someone with something to say, but it doesn't mean you gotta listen.

Let be real: We're black kids from one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. All it takes is one of us messing up, and suddenly all of us messed up.

It is kinda messed up. Here my brother is, doing everything right, and nothing's coming from it. Meanwhile, Aunt Pooh's doing everything we've been told not to do, and she's giving us food when we need it. That's how it goes though. The drug dealers in my neighborhood aren't struggling. Everybody else is.

But it's kinda like saying one side of the Death Star is safer than the other. It's still the goddamn Death Star.

I'm more of a "yes, people exist, but that doesn't mean I need to talk to them" person.

This is Popkenchurch. Popkenchurch is when you buy fried chicken and Cajun rice from Popeyes, biscuits from KFC, and fried okra and corn on the cob from Church’s.

What the hell? I swear, this shit is like quicksand—the harder we try to get out, the harder it is to get out.

And I think you're brilliant, talented, courageous, beautiful. You're my miracle. But you're the only one who can say who you are with authority. So, who are you?

My apologies, see, I forgot my manners. I get on the mic ’cause it’s my life. You show off for girls and cameras. You a pop star, not a rapper. A Vanilla Ice or a Hammer. Y’all hear this crap he dumping out? Somebody get him a Pamper. And a crown for me. The best have heard about me. You can only spell “brilliant” by first spelling Bri. You see, naturally, I do my shit with perfection. Better call a bodyguard ’cause you gon’ need some protection, And on this here election, the people crown a new leader. You didn’t see this coming, and your ghostwriters didn’t either. I came here to ether. I’m sorry to do this to you. This is no longer a battle, it’s your funeral, boo. I’m murdering you. On my corner they call me coroner, I’m warning ya. Tell the truth, this dude is borin’ ya. You confused like a foreigner. I’ll explain with ease: You’re just a casualty in the reality of the madness of Bri. No fallacies, I spit maladies, causin’ fatalities, And do it casually, damaging rappers without bandaging. Imagining managing my own label, my own salary. And actually, factually, there’s no MC that’s as bad as me. Milez? That’s cute. But it don’t make me cower. I move at light speed, you stuck at per hour. You spit like a lisp. I spit like a high power. Bri’s the future, and you Today like Matt Lauer. You coward. But you’re a G? It ain’t convincing to me. You talk about your clothes, about your shopping sprees. You talk about your Glock, about your i-c-e. But in this here ring, they all talking ’bout me, Bri!

But there’s only so long you can blame what you’ve been through for what you do. At some point, you gotta blame yourself.

Sometimes she's my personal Yoda. If Yoda was a woman and had a gold grill. Unfortunately, she doesn't know who Yoda is.

Do it. Hell, get the song taken down if you want. But you’ll never silence me. I got too goddamn much to say.

We can't have any power, either. I mean, think about it. All these people I've never met have way more control over my life than I've ever had. If some Crown hadn't killed my dad, he'd be a big rap star and money wouldn't be an issue. If some drug dealer hadn't sold my mom her first hit, she could've gotten her degree already and would have a good job. If that cop hadn't murdered that boy, people wouldn't have rioted, the daycare wouldn't have burned down, and the church wouldn't have let Jay go. All these folks I've never met became gods over my life. Now I gotta take the power back.

All these folks I've never met became gods over my life. Now I gotta take the power back.

...I'd rather see her as my hero than as somebody else's villain.

Occasionally she goes "Mmm" at some line the same way my grandma does during a sermon. Poetry's Mrs. Murray's religion.

Um, excuse you, but Harry Potter is a cultural phenomenon.

High school ain't the end or the beginning. It ain't even in the middle. You 'bout to do big things, whether they see it or not. I see it. Everybody last night saw it. Long as you see it, that's all that matters.

See, the one thing good memories and bad memories have in common is that they both stay with you. I guess that's why I've never known how I feel about this place.

I mean, it's one thing to wanna do something. It's another to think it's possible. Rapping has been my dream forever, but dreams aren't real. You wake up from them or reality makes them seem stupid. Trust, every time my fridge is almost empty, all of my dreams seem stupid.

Not everything deserves your energy.

I'll always be my dad’s daughter if nothing else.