They call him Gipp saga
Itâs the mutant, mister get down
Live wire, words poke you like barbwire
Maroon Range, sugar cane, oil stains
My right leg longer than my left foot
Put stripes next to squares, still peel the circle
See spirits off of people, I donât see color
Iâm a special mind, yeah, a special kind
Conceived in the South at a special time
Covered in leaves of gold
Scripture written in scrolls
Spoken so clearly in tongues
So my children would come
Look around
Canât you see
The industry: they look like me
I donât wear the clothes you wear
Iâm just different and I donât care
Itâs kind of sad and itâs a shame
Everyone wants to be the same
If you are listening here and now
Iâm sure I can show you how
Itâs okay to be afraid
Donât you want to be special
Iâm so special, boy
Try to went(?) stupid, dawg
I eat nuclear waste and spit atomic bombs
Plutonium explodes, thatâs my trademark
Mushroom clouds inside, call âem brain farts
Gamma rays torch my system, now Iâm going green
G-force in my veins, pump hydrozine
KT, 13, a microphone beam
Cosmic juggernaut, extraterrestrial being
Reign supreme, once conceived, boy, they broke the mold
All this glory-seeking is getting totally outta control
No oneâs original, Attack of the Clones
Invasion of the swagger-snatchers
Aim for the dome
Scientists stood around in silence as I was being born
Was I quote, unquote special or was there something wrong
My skin was black, my heart was gold, and my tongue was silver
And the fact that I could talk already, that was a thriller
And I fear what I donât understand, so let me warn you
Especially when nigga make too much noise about being normal
Unusual but beautiful, the bondinâ blessing
Summa Cum Laude, School of Exceptional Youth
Let me put something poetic into plain English
Iâd rather die than to not be distinguished
The outsiders have no desires to be equal
When V.I.P. stands for âVery Insecure Peopleâ
S.P.E.C.I.A.L.
Heavyweight in the game, T tip the scale
I travel over the world back to ATL
Iâm friends with the mayor, Iâm a truthsayer
A crusader, a natural-born raider
I need a deejayer to be the illustrator
Letâs get the dollar signs
I said my Gucci rhymes
I think itâs tea time
Donât need a co-sign
T-Mo is on the grind, he about to let it shine
Off in the skyline, donât worry âbout mine
I can handle lies and watching third eyes
I make âem go blind, I donât deserve to rhyme