"Little Brother" produced by Jay Dee ("Little Brother" by Black Star from The Hurricane OST)

My little brother locked away upstate, but wait, been gone so long I'm forgetting his face. Ayo. And then my other little brothers are 400 miles away, they're chillin' with their mama living out of state. And I don't see none of them as much as I should--I put my faith and all my trust in what's good. Feeling bad, missing dad and I love my little sister, Bria, but this here is for my little brothers, yeah.

Time keeps moving just like it's supposed to, Prince poster on my wall, I'm losing faith like a fallen soldier. Ironic because the icon is now a faithful Witness and I just decided I'm no longer praying to Jehovah. I'm hoping that the Almighty is listening--I'm lashing out to get a reaction because he does not pay attention to me. Why else would he laugh at my silent cries? So in a blood bath, the old Micah died inside. This latest version isn't the greatest person, but he'll do, until I shed some more of my skin and then renew myself, and regenerate. I'm trying to commemorate the shattered fragments of a family that was. If papa was here, he'd say "somebody get me my gun, and fuck the world if they're hitting my son...I'm swinging back on 'em." If I was a braver nigga, I'd be slingin' crack on 'em; a misbehaving nigga, shackles off my back on 'em. But I'm a humble slave, a sliver of a man, drinking liquor out the can and they say...

Little brother, you're looking like you need some help and I replied that I don't need shit but myself. And then my mother said "little one, tell me what ails". I said "nothing", but she knows I'm telling tales. Repelling hell [but] rebuking heaven so I'm assuming the bazooka shells and lightning bolts are coming for my head, and I might be wrong, but I want to be happy these days, and if I can't have that I'd rather be dead.

The tortoise and the hare ran a similar race, the only difference was the tortoise kept a minimum pace. The rabbit was the fastest in chase, but thought he had time to waste, so the nigga fell flat on his face. I use to learn from the fables of Aesop, but I get geeked and yearn to hear the turntables of Pete Rock spinning them cult classics, aka "Ace In The Hole Magic", worth more than woven, golden fabrics. Closed caption for the sound-deficient. I'm pooped from trying to make soup from all the boots that I found fishing in a river full of hopes and dreams. [I'm] impossibly cliche, give props to DJs that keep spinning it. My man said, "one day we'll be winning, kid", but until I'm living it, my mind strays off into the infinite. Yeah, another time, space and joy, and this here is for my baby boys, y'know.