Children's Story Lyrics - Mos Def & Talib Kweli Are Black Star - Blackstar

Once upon a time not long ago 

When people wore Adidas and lived life slow 

When laws were stern and justice stood 

And people was behaving like hip-hop was good 

There lived a little boy who was misled 

By a little Sha-tan and this is what he said 

"Me and you kid we gonna make some cash 

Jacking old beats and making the dash" 

They jacked the beats, money came with ease 

But son, he couldn't stop, it's like he had a disease 

He jacked another and another, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder 

Set some R&B over the track for "Deep Cover" (187!) 

The kid got wild, started acting erratic 

He said "Yo, that presidential I got to have it" 

With liquor in his belly son, he made up the track 

But little did he know that his joints was wack 

The shiny A&R said "Great new hit, G!" 

"Whenever you need a loop, yo come get me" 

The kid got amped and he starts to figure 

"I'mma get dough like all of these other niggas!" 

So, he's in the studio working round the clock 

For pop radio, jacked the beat to 'Planet Rock' 

Was out in the street when he met this sister 

Who couldn't sing for shh but the mix would assist her 

Hooked up the track and in excitation 

He decided he'd head for the radio station 

But (What?) he was running and he made a left 

Was skeezing at top speed and ran into Mos Def 

I slowed the young man down and I started: "Yo money 

Yo, why you selling lies to our wives and children?" 

He ran upstairs up to the top floor 

Opened up the door then guess who he saw? (Who?) 

Jane the chickenhead radio host 

Who be yapping 'bout beef between east and west coast 

He said "This one's a bullet, you got to give it run!" 

The chicken said "Thanks" and spanked it #1 

He went outside, was getting props all over 

Then he dipped into his ride, the 4-point Rover 

Raced up the block doing 83 

Some cats with Hennessey saw him at a R-E-D 

He winked his eye like his star status mattered 

They rat-a-tat-tatted to make his blood splatter 

"You rocking crazy ice and all you do is cling static 

And rolling out in Brooklyn late night is problematic" 

His eyes was bloody red, he hung on every word they said 

They told the kid "Back down, that player shit is dead" 

Deep in his heart, he knew he was gone 

But he grabbed his .45 and decide to blaze on 

With shades on founded had him astounded and 

Before long the young man got surrounded 

Those grabbed the guns, so goes the glory 

And this is the way I got to end this story 

He was out chasing cream and the American dream 

Trying to pretend the ends justify the means 

This ain't funny so don't you dare laugh 

It's just what comes to pass when you sell your ass 

Life is more than what your hands can grasp 

Good night!