Why let one bad apple Spoil the whole damn bunch When the shit hit the fan It was all I could stand Yeah, well I'm a frequent flyer My body's breathing while it can But what I don't understand is that My world ain't gettin' no brighter If I could touch

Damn, here we go again Everything I'm not, made me everything I am People talkin' shit, but when the shit hit the fan Everybody sayin' what's not for him Common passed on this beat I made it to a jam Now everything I'm not, made me everything I am I'll

When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan? As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it Let these words be your earth and moon you consume every message And with that being said my nigga,