Today Sha Stimuli dropped The Trueman Show, the 4th installment of #TheRentTapeSeries. The Trueman Show is an authentic look into Sha’s life using his music to convey his continuing struggles in the rap game, stepping into the world of the 9-5er and his love/hate relationship with the life that he left behind and what is not visible in the future, and the rise and fall of his personal and professional relationships (or is it just a metaphor). While we’ve heard Sha’s message before, we’ve not truly heard it like this, a cleansing of the soul, while rising up like the Phoenix from the ashes.

So join us in a break from your regularly scheduled programming for The Trueman Show starring production from J. Cardim and features from I Am Kebba, Lydia Caeser and Lela Bizz.

Hip-hop started out in the park. Back in the days, every emcee that grabbed a mic had a different style, charisma, and objective. The “emcee” began as a party-starter and crowd warmer while the DJ manned the wheels. Although “The Message” was one of the earliest hit records, not everyone wanted to hear anything that contained food for thought. Storytelling, bravado, violence, and sex all became a part of the genre.

Rakim was one of the earliest soloists that sparked individualism and conversations about who was the best. He and Big Daddy Kane had an ongoing cold war for the crown for years.

But no matter what people felt about who was lyrically on top, there was always hip-hop music that did not focus on the words. Rob Base’s “It Takes Two” was more about the beat and the chorus even though the verses were pretty easy to follow. Biz Markie made it no secret that Kane wrote for him, and his objective was comedy. MC Hammer, Young MC, Tone Loc were all entertainers that created timeless songs to make people dance.

We were Humpty dancing and doing the Pee Wee Herman way before Soulja Boy was a sperm cell. Folks loved Kid N’ Play as much as they vibed to CMW.

Fun music was great, but there was a balance, and it wasn’t contrived. So when did groups like PRT, Public Enemy and Brand Nubian become obsolete? When did X-Clan and all of the Native Tongues become too preachy? Did the Wu-Tang Clan’s God body influence get to be too much? And even bigger than that, what made lyricism and record sales become antonyms?

There’s no clear-cut answer, but in the late 90′s we witnessed Loud records triumph as the home of Wu-Tang, Mobb Deep, Big Pun, M.O.P, Dead Prez, and Tha Alkaholiks, but the clincher was that their roster was moving units.

On the other side of the rap world, Puff Daddy was dealing with Biggie’s passing by pushing himself to the forefront and also forcing his shiny suit image on everyone on his label. So while Loud was doing numbers, Puff was trying to do millions. An entertainer, dancer, manager, and CEO wanted to do a rap album. No Way Out was a gateway for bringing out new artists on the Bad Boy label; the issue was that Puff was treating the art of putting words together like a pie recipe.

He exposed his marketing plan to the world: take hits from the 80′s and make hot dance records. He enlisted writers like Sauce Money, Mase and Jadakiss…then he got everyone from Twista to Ginuwine to Foxy Brown and Jay-Z on the debut. No Way Out sold 561,000 units in its first week; whether it was because of all the A-listers or the unheard B.I.G verses, it was still a strong statement.
As Badboy was heating up the charts, another boy was heating up mixtapes and features across the globe. Canibus was first introduced on the Lost Boyz’ song, “Beasts from the East” where he went in for a 2-and-a-half minute lyrical barrage. His verse instantly struck comparisons to Capadonna’s long, introductory rant on “Winter Wars.”

The result was a spotlight on an emcee that was hungry, metaphorically driven and ready to go down in history as one of the best spitters ever. He survived a battle with LL Cool J, he was sought after for collaborations, had a crazy cipher on Hot 97FM with DMX and Noreaga, landed on The Firm’s album, Common Sense’s third release, and he was picked up and managed by Wyclef.

I was a kid at college arguing that Cam’ron was next up, that Common was better than Black Thought and that Canibus would flop. I was in the minority when it came to Canibus. His fans swore that his debut LP would change hip-hop forever. They vowed that he would be the real emcee to throw crazy similes and sharp darts and also have enough fans to sell millions…without a party single. I wanted to be wrong, but his metaphors about hitting you in your chest so hard that your shoulders would touch…or his use of lines that seemed too fantastical and predictable with no vocal inflection and what seemed to be a fake raspy tone irked me. I was confused by his punchlines, I didn’t like the fact that his rhyme schemes were forced, and him going against LL (although rightfully provoked) just rubbed me the wrong way.

Looking back now, it could have been a touch of hate on my part, but Canibus dropped his debut CD and it was #2 on Billboard. Nowadays if an artist drops their first album and moves 127,000 copies in one week, it would be deemed a success. But back in ’98, it was a message to hip-hop that real rap had its place, but wasn’t about to rule.
The critics killed the debut; he blamed the production and pointed at Wyclef, while fans felt abandoned and disappointed at the lack of rewind worthy verses and powerful concepts and choruses. The labels took notice and in an instant, the shiny suit era gave birth to the bling era and there was nothing to combat it. Repetitive hooks, monosyllabic words, emptier production was a part of the new direction of rap music. Sell more by doing less, and doing less opened the door for regions other than New York and California to set the tone for trendsetting.

I’m not saying this was a bad thing at all. I’m just saying that when lyricism and New York rap didn’t equal big money, the majors looked around to see where the money was being made. And there happened to be a whole lot of artists selling music out of their trunks and gaining fans the old-fashioned way.

The issue with trends is that they get followed. When one label decides to give an indie label millions because they figure that when an artist has fans before they sign to a major it’s a no-brainer…other labels join the party. With that motion, you then have Atlantic, Sony, Universal, and even Def Jam looking for artists that have fans, artists that are not from New York or Cali, and hopefully have hit records already.

No Limit, Cash Money, Hypnotized Minds and Slip-N-Slide were all making a strong dent in the game slowly. Snoop Dogg’s switch from being a Deathrow inmate to becoming a No Limit soldier solidified how important the business side of music was.

People were not looking at hip-hop as just expression, this was a means of getting paid and it was not closed off to the super-lyrical emcee.

In the 90’s, hip-hop was making a slow breakthrough into daytime radio and a genius Puff Daddy knew that infusing records that got airplay years ago into his songs would make for sure time on air. He was right, and even though wordplay and content began to get sacrificed, hip-hop was reaching more people, making more money, and creating more hopeful wannabes that would transform themselves from fans, sideline guys or real life gangstas into booth invaders picking up a pen and believing they could be the next Nore instead of Nas.

We accepted Jermaine Dupri on the mic, TImbaland dropped an album, and it was similar to Puff and Dre exposing that they don’t write and introducing artists, but it also opened us up to the idea that music was changing.

Radioplay was very important, the charts were being watched and checks weren’t being cut in the offices just because some rapper was “nice.”

As the Wu faded in popularity, as BET’s Rap City got shelved, as The Dungeon Family seemingly reached its plateau, it seemed that any artist with something semi-positive was going to have a serious battle to be heard. Just ask anyone associated with the late Tupac Shakur.

“Don’t worry if I write rhymes/I write checks…” -P. Diddy

What would make you march? Sha Stimuli asks that very question on the third installment of #TheRentTapeSeries entitled The March.

Similar to his 2008 release March on Washington which tackled social issues like racism, gang violence, and the new president, this EP contains social content that deals with today’s ongoings.

The eight-track release features songs like “Praying For Aliens,” which delivers an interesting twist on discrimination across the globe, “Kill the Babies,” an ironic message to military leaders, and “Satan’s Song” which touches on everything from child molestation to rape by suggesting the devil’s involvement.

The title track embodies the entire EP as Sha lists issues that affect the world and questions the listeners about which one would make them stand up and make a change.

The March is an abstract approach to topics that surround us all. At the time of the Trayvon Martin shooting, the music is the soundtrack of the moment. Support the movement.

Sha Stimuli releases The Chills today, the second EP from The Rent Tape Series, 12 Ep’s to be released in 2012.

“The Chills confronts the fear that I always had of getting older and not being financially set,” says Stimuli. The Calling was released in January.

A continuing theme with “The Rent Tapes” and Sha’s live performances is showing that he’s understands the struggle of today’s blue collar American, by donning a uniform shirt from establishments where many Americans work. Even as an artist, he too knows what it’s like to struggle to make ends meet and has considered the likelihood that one day he may have to pick up that same uniform. Sha kicked the series off with The Calling, a full-length LP digitally distributed by Coast2Coast Mixtapes via iTunes and Amazon.com.

New York, NY, February 20, 2012– Brooklyn Emcee, Sha Stimuli will be again setting out to do what other emcees could only fathom doing, dropping “The Rent Tapes,” a series of 12 brand new EP’s all in 12 months. The Chills will be the second release from the series coming at the end of February. The mixtape features producers Jaisu, Radio Maschine, Clams Casino, Pezey Krack, and DJ Qvali.

“The Chills confronts the fear that I always had of getting older and not being financially set,” says Stimuli. The Calling was released in January 2012 and kicked the series off with an EP digitally distributed by Coast2Coast Mixtapes via iTunes and Amazon.com.

A continuing theme with “The Rent Tapes” and Sha’s live performances is showing that he’s understands the struggle of today’s blue collar American, by donning a uniform shirt from establishments where many Americans work. Even as an artist, he too knows what it’s like to struggle to make ends meet and has considered the likelihood that one day he may have to pick up that same uniform.

This series of 12 will not be Stimuli’s first, in 2008 he released his first 12 mixtapes in 12 months with the assistance of DJ Victorious, which included the titles: March on Washington, Love Jones, Hotter Than July(A Stevie Wonder Tribute), and The Wire. “The Rent Tapes” were inspired by the concept of rent parties, in which individuals who are having trouble meeting their monthly obligations to their landlords, throw parties to raise the funds to keep a roof over their heads.

The remaining of the 12 EP’s starting with The Chills will be available for purchase on Sha Stimuli’s website ShaStimuli.com and other online retail outlets on February 29, 2012.

For Sha’s Bio click here.

For most recent press photo click here.

In the offices behind the artists, the words have been the same for a while now. The public is getting more and more hip to those terms: marketing, image, and branding. What the hell is a brand? Everyone will tell you that you need marketing, you should identify your target audience and demographic, and then establish your brand. It sounds like a lot more work than just writing and recording a song. Well the most successful artists in music had work put in on marketing their look.

Think about if a comedian can imitate your signature style,

or someone can dress up like you for Halloween then you have an identifiable image that can transcend time and records

…not everyone that steps in the booth even takes these things into consideration.

And sometimes “CB4” rappers should not even think about marketing and simply be who they are.

Sometimes it just happens; the way someone thinks, speaks, walks and behaves is infectious without a plan. Ol’ Dirty Bastard was himself, DMX didn’t have to act to get followers, he became synonymous with a dog, Li’l John’s yelps, glasses, goblet and hair made him a standout above his music. A brand can be defined as the gut feeling people get when they see or hear about a product. It’s deeper than a logo, one record, or a video to evoke a feeling from viewers and listeners. And then sometimes it takes less than any of those.

A name can do it all…so can one verse…it can also happen with you roll with, what label you’re on or simply what you look like. The Poetical Prophets may have had a different career if they hadn’t become Mobb Deep. There was something about the name Busta Rhymes that separated him from the rest of The Leaders of The New School.

The Warlox and Murda Mase got the death and violence subtracted from their monikers to add a larger appeal. Your name is just the beginning when it comes to the music business.

So how did hip-hop get more focused on what you wear, who shot you and how much time you did? Music has never just been about music. Even in its purest form, the emcee was someone you wanted to be like. Whether he was living out his dream, was an amazing wordsmith or just dressed fly, he was an iconic figure.

We were supposed to believe that LL could have any woman he wanted, that Rakim could calmly rap circles around anyone while dropping jewels, that KRS was a revolutionary and genius, that Ice Cube would punch you in your face, that Chuck D could maintain a political position, and this was what fanship was about. Similar to sitting in the stands at a ball game, rap was out of reach. Even those who weren’t that witty with the words served their purpose.

Back in the days when I was a kid, I was worried when my brother Lord Digga was doing an interview at a radio station and the gun-throwing group Onyx was slated to be there. They had already thought Masta Ace was coming at them with his mockery of fake pistol-packing rappers. But after the interview, my brother assured me there was nothing to worry about and that Sticky Fingaz and the gang had found a great way to sell records and set themselves apart.

A gimmick?!! Was that what that was? I instantly questioned the reality on my EFIL4ZAGGIN NWA tape. I went back and listened to a few albums where guns were firing and it instantly hit me that this was about image.

When Biggie introduced us to a hustler with a purpose of feeding his family, fearing his life and being saved by music…and Raekwon and Ghostface’s dropped Only Built for Cuban Links, it was all in your face that these guys moved cocaine with thee intention of surviving. No glory, no flossing, just necessity. You didn’t really desire to be like them, but in some ways, their reality seemed intriguing.

The Wu-gambino names gave fans the correlation to a crime family. And who doesn’t like a good mob movie? They put the mafia to music and created an image that was somewhat new. The average rapper in the 80′s and 90′s talked about fun, why he was better than everybody or had a message. Groups like M.O.P, NWA, The Geto Boys exposed criminal acts in a way that seemed real; and authenticity became a silent rule in rap music.

It was a gradual shift when lifestyle became bigger than words.

Li’l Kim was the voice for sexuality, Busta Rhymes was becoming the rambunctious party orchestrator and Jay-Z was the hustler that didn’t need to write rhymes on paper to be the best in the game. The hustler persona began to take over the industry. Then Foxy Brown came with the most incorrect hip-hop drug math equation ever but it sounded so cool, you almost thought she got it right on “Affirmative Action.” State Property, Philly’s Most Wanted, and Major Figgaz, repped the city of brotherly love with enough coke talk to supply any neighborhood.

CNN was telling us how they met in prison and by the time Nore went solo we knew all about his vocation before rap. Master P was the Ice Cream Man selling records out of his trunk and his film, Bout it, Bout it was a Scarface for the ghetto. It wasn’t just about your rhymes anymore.

Sure Tupac didn’t get arrested or shot until he picked up a mic, but once he did, all eyes were on him. DMX’s criminal record and rap sheet were publicized just like his debut record and rap lyrics. Throw in the movie Belly, Fifty Cent’s confession about what he did with his 1st advance, and Jay’s ultimate King of NY status and you can see why Rick Ross is a “millionaire” from dealing weight, why Red Café is the “arm & hammer man” and why Pusha T hasn’t spent a rap dollar in 3 years, holla.

Coke is cool, and will probably never go out of style until the tides turn and the new generation can no longer identify with criminal life. For every real artist like these guys that went through it, got locked up and chose to share their experiences, there are a thousand more that feel like they must bust a glock or push a key in order to gain fans. Branding works more when it’s real, but it is those that follow these marketing plans as if they were written up in a board room that taint the music business we all know and love.

“They be steady clappin’ when you talk about bitches and switches and hoes and clothes and weed/let’s talk about time traveling, rhyme javelin, something mind unraveling, get down.”-Andre Benjamin.

Don’t forget my book is in stores. Support here!

In the offices behind the artists, the words have been the same for a while now. The public is getting more and more hip to those terms: marketing, image, and branding. What the hell is a brand? Everyone will tell you that you need marketing, you should identify your target audience and demographic, and then establish your brand. It sounds like a lot more work than just writing and recording a song. Well the most successful artists in music had work put in on marketing their look.

Think about if a comedian can imitate your signature style,

or someone can dress up like you for Halloween then you have an identifiable image that can transcend time and records

…not everyone that steps in the booth even takes these things into consideration.

And sometimes “CB4” rappers should not even think about marketing and simply be who they are.

Sometimes it just happens; the way someone thinks, speaks, walks and behaves is infectious without a plan. Ol’ Dirty Bastard was himself, DMX didn’t have to act to get followers, he became synonymous with a dog, Li’l John’s yelps, glasses, goblet and hair made him a standout above his music. A brand can be defined as the gut feeling people get when they see or hear about a product. It’s deeper than a logo, one record, or a video to evoke a feeling from viewers and listeners. And then sometimes it takes less than any of those.

A name can do it all…so can one verse…it can also happen with you roll with, what label you’re on or simply what you look like. The Poetical Prophets may have had a different career if they hadn’t become Mobb Deep. There was something about the name Busta Rhymes that separated him from the rest of The Leaders of The New School.

The Warlox and Murda Mase got the death and violence subtracted from their monikers to add a larger appeal. Your name is just the beginning when it comes to the music business.

So how did hip-hop get more focused on what you wear, who shot you and how much time you did? Music has never just been about music. Even in its purest form, the emcee was someone you wanted to be like. Whether he was living out his dream, was an amazing wordsmith or just dressed fly, he was an iconic figure.

We were supposed to believe that LL could have any woman he wanted, that Rakim could calmly rap circles around anyone while dropping jewels, that KRS was a revolutionary and genius, that Ice Cube would punch you in your face, that Chuck D could maintain a political position, and this was what fanship was about. Similar to sitting in the stands at a ball game, rap was out of reach. Even those who weren’t that witty with the words served their purpose.

Back in the days when I was a kid, I was worried when my brother Lord Digga was doing an interview at a radio station and the gun-throwing group Onyx was slated to be there. They had already thought Masta Ace was coming at them with his mockery of fake pistol-packing rappers. But after the interview, my brother assured me there was nothing to worry about and that Sticky Fingaz and the gang had found a great way to sell records and set themselves apart.

A gimmick?!! Was that what that was? I instantly questioned the reality on my EFIL4ZAGGIN NWA tape. I went back and listened to a few albums where guns were firing and it instantly hit me that this was about image.

When Biggie introduced us to a hustler with a purpose of feeding his family, fearing his life and being saved by music…and Raekwon and Ghostface’s dropped Only Built for Cuban Links, it was all in your face that these guys moved cocaine with thee intention of surviving. No glory, no flossing, just necessity. You didn’t really desire to be like them, but in some ways, their reality seemed intriguing.

The Wu-gambino names gave fans the correlation to a crime family. And who doesn’t like a good mob movie? They put the mafia to music and created an image that was somewhat new. The average rapper in the 80′s and 90′s talked about fun, why he was better than everybody or had a message. Groups like M.O.P, NWA, The Geto Boys exposed criminal acts in a way that seemed real; and authenticity became a silent rule in rap music.

It was a gradual shift when lifestyle became bigger than words.

Li’l Kim was the voice for sexuality, Busta Rhymes was becoming the rambunctious party orchestrator and Jay-Z was the hustler that didn’t need to write rhymes on paper to be the best in the game. The hustler persona began to take over the industry. Then Foxy Brown came with the most incorrect hip-hop drug math equation ever but it sounded so cool, you almost thought she got it right on “Affirmative Action.” State Property, Philly’s Most Wanted, and Major Figgaz, repped the city of brotherly love with enough coke talk to supply any neighborhood.

CNN was telling us how they met in prison and by the time Nore went solo we knew all about his vocation before rap. Master P was the Ice Cream Man selling records out of his trunk and his film, Bout it, Bout it was a Scarface for the ghetto. It wasn’t just about your rhymes anymore.

Sure Tupac didn’t get arrested or shot until he picked up a mic, but once he did, all eyes were on him. DMX’s criminal record and rap sheet were publicized just like his debut record and rap lyrics. Throw in the movie Belly, Fifty Cent’s confession about what he did with his 1st advance, and Jay’s ultimate King of NY status and you can see why Rick Ross is a “millionaire” from dealing weight, why Red Café is the “arm & hammer man” and why Pusha T hasn’t spent a rap dollar in 3 years, holla.

Coke is cool, and will probably never go out of style until the tides turn and the new generation can no longer identify with criminal life. For every real artist like these guys that went through it, got locked up and chose to share their experiences, there are a thousand more that feel like they must bust a glock or push a key in order to gain fans. Branding works more when it’s real, but it is those that follow these marketing plans as if they were written up in a board room that taint the music business we all know and love.

“They be steady clappin’ when you talk about bitches and switches and hoes and clothes and weed/let’s talk about time traveling, rhyme javelin, something mind unraveling, get down.”-Andre Benjamin.

Don’t forget my book is in stores. Support here!

Volume prod by V Ladian Productions

Verse
Dear Stimuli Good morning
I don’t know if you hear your life calling,
Last night you was sleep at eleven,
Now it’s eight twenty seven your ass is still snoring
Folks ask for songs and you stalling,
Last rhymes you wrote were real boring,
You be talking bout God, doing joints for the broads
What happened Sherod you’re not touring? Huh
Are you giving it up?
In 06 you would live in the club,
In 07 you was spitting it tough,
In 08 dropping shit every month,
In 09 you was getting a buzz
But right now you chilling,
What? You in pain
‘Cause Kampane died
And it’s heavy on your brain?
Mad ‘cause you put in so much time in the game,
And you still do shows and they don’t know your name?
You upset?
You depressed?
What you think, your career’s been a test?
What you thought, it was ‘sposed to be easy,
That people should see that your flow is the best,
‘Cause you speak on life,
Talk about death, bleed on beats and it’s not for a check,
Bars you release they be hard to receive,
Like the Garden of Eden when God blew breath
Do you know why you’re here?
Can you even understand His plan?
You think it’s all about flows, songs, hoes, broads,
Trying to get fans,
There’s folks out here that can’t even stand
That sleep on the street, living on land
Everybody talking ‘bout marketing brands
What about the heart of a man?
Damn
They compare you to Sky,
Compare you to Sai,
Hip-hop awards never there, tell me why
Maybe you’re done and preparing to die
Man up is that a tear in your eye
Look
All that you want,
Is right in your reach,
You’re writing is deep
They like when you sleep
Rest, sound real weak
Yea they smile at the sight of defeat
But they get tight when you start throwing heat,
And you dead competition
Putting life on a beat
Yea some say that you nice in the streets,
But I don’t really see too many nice people eat dog
Fight like it’s beef
When they bite pull they teeth
Do everything you didn’t do on My Soul To Keep then, then
They’ll fall like the season
You do songs for a reason
You don’t just beast, well you beast but
You mix in teachings,
They critique it but who’s gonna reach ‘em if not you
Cats call you out, said you couldn’t hang with Slaughtahouse
They don’t see what it’s all about
You don’t wanna be in Slaughtahouse,
You want a family, you want a house,
You want kids, cars and a gorgeous spouse,
Get mad if you wanna shout so they hear you
Just turn up now and don’t let ‘em ever turn you down
They gon tell you that you can’t, won’t, try to convince you
That you’re wack, broke, get in your mental
But you can’t fold
Never back down
Volume on ten
I aint turning back down
Last year waterboy
Quarterback now
I’m starting at the point guard
You get the point God

Me feat Lelabizz prod by DJ Pain

Verse
17,440 spitters
3,000 corny and 5,000 are bitter
2,400 love weed, pussy or liquor
In the game just so they can get fame and money quicker
4,000 imitate Weezy, Drizzy or Jigga
150 try to work out like Fifty to get bigger
990 using beats from the 90’s hoping Ninth wonder finds em or signs em and pulls the trigger,
1,600 emcees are saying nigger
Even though they’re Caucasian
It’s crazy
But here’s the kicker
There’s 99 dudes that’s nice, the only hiccup
Is their music really deals with real life so you don’t pick ‘em
And there’s 200 women with not so pretty figures
So you see they video and you dis em,
And it figures, bout half of these dudes want major deals to get richer
When they see the freshman cover they mad as hell at the picture
17,439 rappers tell you that they’re hotter, iller and sicker
Than anybody alive, and it might be a lie,
But they beg for you to follow them on twitter
And then there’s me…
Music’s keeping me from death,
When everyone is just all right I’m what’s left
Used to blame everyone else but I accept
My path, my choices, my steps, I’m blessed
Can I get an Amen?
Looking in the mirror like Sha say when
The future’s getting nearer matter fact it’s right here
So I gotta stop playing tomorrow became today
Are you hearing the shit I’m saying?
Good…God!

From Me To You prod by Black Metaphor

Verse
From unsigned hype to unhype signed
From Sha rhymes nice to Sha still rhymes?
Back in the days it was
Take these drugs and bag that dime
Then hit these clubs and bag that dime
To get that shine
From small ass crimes
To long ass grind
I crossed that line
Took all that time
And forced my mind to switch
From messing with girls that’s already taken
To dealing with women, from smashing to dating
I went from being impatient
Dissed the Creator sometimes praying to Satan
To realizing I was bitter and hating
I went from wishing and waiting
For things to happen now I snatch it and take it
I went from wack to your favorite
I went from attic to basement
I mean mainstream to underground
You can’t even place me inside a box when I rock
Went from rapping real basic
To making soul stirring, earth spinning classical statements
It makes your skin twitch, spine tingle can’t even trace it
Went from acting and faking
And rocking shades on the stage
To being passionate making people relate to my pain
I went from hard to difficult
Switched from spitting to bleeding
I was rhyming for money now I view money as freedom
I was nobody, now when you ask who could beat him
The answer’s nobody now, later, ever I’m heated
I was hot, flame scorching now I’m like the human torch
I went from metaphoric orphan to a spiritual fortune good…
God

Chorus 4X
This goes out to you and you and you and you and you

Verse 2
I used to be a
Young emcee wit an old soul
Did a little pitching, swore that I had a dope flow
Listening to Twista but they said I should go slow,
I was so close to blowing up but I got exposed though
From kidding and playing
To shifting the way that my shit was conveyed
And then
Cops stopped me on a trip to get paid
Searched the whip, made us strip, I envisioned the cage,
Made it out, swear to Christ life was different that day
Just imagine you’re a surgeon with a kid on your table
And you lose ‘em by twist of fate from a simple mistake,
And it’s killing your faith
In other words I’m missing my patience
Went from improv to improving
Been in the Matrix
I was focused on radio play and getting fellatio
To trying to change the globe and the college to prison ratio
Used to smoke alone in my zone
Sitting at home, writing hit records
Now I write records that hit home
I be
Killing dudes with every bar thrown
Composing stupid verses in a smart phone
This is not a sermon or a long poem
Sorry if it comes out in a harsh tone
From shooting shots on the court off the bench
To taking shots from a judge in the court on the bench
I was aiming and squeezing and chasing the cheese as a
Atheist heathen almost died started changing my reasoning
Went to sleep, saw my wake in a dream and I started maybe believing facing my demons
Now I’m thankful I’m breathing
Lord

Chorus

Conception prod by Big Fraze

Chorus
Mama gave birth but she really never had me
Mama gave birth but she really never had me

Verse 1
The creator blew breath
Beat the pill, skipped abortion I have battled thru death
Six months first words, 32 steps
Told Moms I’m done playing, ref gave me two techs
I’m
gone
She was looking at me weird
Like you been here before
I said fatherfucker yea
Nobody got that joke, until a year or two later I was writing on paper
People was scared
Y’all don’t see I wasn’t born
I was hatched, I’s created, I was built, I was formed
I was sculpted I was molded I was crafted I was carved
I was generated made, from the image of a God
Now the standard has been lifted
And the cheers are going up
I was sent to raise the bar
Walking in cheers everybody yells Sha
So you I’m not the norm
Y’all don’t get it,
Y’all been warned look

Chorus 4X
Verse 2

School didn’t help
My parents gave an effort
But I swear I was raised by Melle Mel’s message
And a Public Enemy that had Flavor and a professor
And a crew that rocked Adidas with a rapping future reverend
A radio toting emcee that was confessing
How he needed love and was bold enough to address it
A DJ that ran for president with a legend
by his side,
Monotone and wise infusing lessons
In my bloodstream when I came up
My daddy wasn’t there but Big Daddy Kane was
Queen Latifah, Fresh Prince, royalty I witnessed
I was learning how to act before I even paid attention,
Craig G’s verses, G Rap’s wordplay
Pun spit it perfect
Masta Ace and my brother Lord Digga
Can’t thank that man enough for teaching me to pen a scripture
Peeping Dana Dane, Slick Rick stories,
Grand Puba, man you would see me flowing as a shorty
I was
Bumping Naughty, and Tribe when I was young
Just watching and dreaming of joining The Native Tongues,
Black Sheep was different,
GZA provoked thought
Snoop gave a nucca style
By 96 I was caught
I clowned around when I hung around with the underground
But when my hood was crazy violent
I was holding on to weapons, I was on the corner dwelling by the dumpster one night I heard Brenda’s baby crying,
I watched Bishop turn into Lucky before he died
And I aint hold it all inside..
I let it out studied
Ten crack commandments, Friend or Foe, illmatic
Nas made his memory lane so graphic that we shared a project window where he was seeing the static
It was just like mine in my mind,
Dope addicts
It was Ice Cube’s solos, KRS cover with the burner in the photo,
Looking like Malcolm
Shit when Busta went dolo
I was so inspired
Saw that Roc-a-Fella logo
Then I got hired
My mob was deep,
My rhymes was shallow
It started coming from the soul
When I got into battles
And right now I’m afraid ‘cause these rappers are babbling
So I’m looking at the future it’s baffling I don’t know
Shit is missing
That Wu Tang look,
NWA essence or a Nate Dogg hook
or Gangstarr’s purity
Can’t you see it?
Yo the game’s looking old I’m a brand new being
I was spawned, I was merged from the clouds perspiration
And the sun hit my mother with light from the constellations
And it took one day to bring you this here creation
So I got the Lord beat
I’m telling you,
Don’t sleep on me

Chorus

Walk on Water III prod by Emazin

Verse 1

I walk on water
I take flight like a hit from a dealer
Better yet like a blitz from the Steelers
Name a spitter that’s realer,
Half artist half spiritual healer,
I turn that water that I walked on into tequila
I am past passive, I smash tracks in a fast fashion
Flipped ASCAPs like crack packs and got cash stacks and
I surpassed bastards, outlast masses you ass cracks
I just joke and smile took Yoda style and I rapped backwards
Do anything
I can
Stage show high hands
Up keep them please
Emcees
I ran
I run
I’m dumb look at me
My Soul is exposed and even my fans said I’m over devoted
I’m so sick
So sick
I don’t know where I’m going
I’m the difference
In between a summer cold and a coma
You can be like me if you close in and focus,
I’m feeling close to Jehovah
Like I was Moses or Noah
I go in it’s so effortless
Don’t think that I’m a Christian ‘cause of biblical references
I’m here to bring you hope while you dealing with deficit
A lot of us complain about the paper we’ll never get,
Young money, cash money, money’s the emphasis,
Unfunny crash dummies drive and they wreck they whip
Y’all not seeing what’s in front of you negligent
And I don’t got insurance but my listeners benefit

Chorus
It’s like I walk on water I battled pastors I been nailed to the cross
On crucifixes you my witness, I ain’t frail I ain’t soft
It’s like I walk on water
You compare me to rappers that’s spitting bars,
While my function is to give you a touch of my gift from God
It’s like I walk on water
I talk in tongues, my hip-hop is gospel
Make vodka out of agua I ain’t gotta pop a bottle
It’s like I walk on water
Brought Brooklyn bullshit to the pulpit
Aiming at the game with a full clip
I walk on water

Verse 2
I can bless a congregation
Spit out holy saliva
Switch sinners into saints win Amazing Race and Survivor
Turn tides shift climates, talk to animals and fly
I been hated, jaded, reincarnated I can’t die
I can
Stop tsunamis
Take the cancer out a body
Make daddies bring up they kids even if they don’t stay with mommy
I promised to help the youth with my music the day they signed me
So I
Put those industry issues so far behind me
I can walk on water.
Cry a whole river, write a novel I’m an author
Verses make you shiver I deliver give offer
Whatever you want to call it
Rather die than not try to live larger, that life is torture
I make women out of daughters,
Run circles round ciphers,
Do songs that relate to the killers, dealers and lifers,
I’m Lazarus when I’m spazzing I’m Jonah praying and fasting
I’m Joshua fighting battles,
Falling for chicks like Samson
Doing stupidness like Judas repenting and bouncing back
Giving blessing like John the Baptist
Avoiding the devils rapture
You can play my verse to educate your child in your womb,
You can bump my songs to get over your child in the tomb,
There’s an under mentioned elephant inside of the room
My mind is in bloom, my time’s coming soon

Chorus

The Realist prod by DJ Qvali

Verse 1
This young kid around my way said he saw me spitting hard on The Deal
Then he asked me was my life real,
I pinched myself like I think so I’m standing here breathing,
He said “Nah you don’t know what I’m meaning,
Did you ever get shot, stabbed, been to jail?”
I said “Damn if I was dead or locked up in a cell, I’d be the man,”
He said, “You need some murder in your marketing plan,”
I laughed and said, “I have held a burner in my hand
And froze the fuck up ‘cause I couldn’t understand
Why God would give me power to put someone under land
I get what you saying
I used to be a fan
But fake rappers lost their appeal, is my life real?
I’m not sure block wars when I was younger I love my life to death,
Never starved, felt hunger, coulda swore around my way I wouldn’t make it through summer,
And as dumb as I think you are son, I was dumber
That’s real

Verse 2
My father was there,
We lived on the 8th floor
He would clean floors and bathrooms I made more
Money out on the block than allowance
Until I found out the powder in my pouch wasn’t flour
I’m just playing I knew I wasn’t real not real like hard I was real like my Momma’s real job,
Is her life real? Waking up for work 45 years
When all I do is make sure my words come out clear
I had guns pointed at me but y’all missing the point
I played the shooting guard, three but now I’m missing a point
I need direction, ascension, I’m giving you joints,
Songs, records and music with an image that’s confusing
They say he’s alright but he’s not real what if you real but you not alright
How does that feel?
Have I shot? Have I killed? Did I rob? Did I steal? Not to get a record deal

Do I gotta walk around wit a game face all the time
Or try to imitate The Game’s face when he rhymes?

Verse 3
That’s me I don’t think looking tough is tough
I can’t front central booking was enough
I’m straight I’m good,
Look, I can be real and be really out the hood
If you could you would,
No legal income helped my self-endurance
For six years big fears no health insurance
I’m a Leo match wit Taurus’s and flirt with Gemini’s
Turn Virgos to whores but got cancer on my mind,
That shit killed my pops,
My fam says get a job, my fans won’t let me stop
My music is not the hardest but it’s me and I’m an artist
I lived, I cried, I hurt I’mma die,
The kid looked in my eyes said, “Motherfucker damn
I just wanted to know if I should buy your album or Cam’s
I’m downloading yours nigga you be kicking knowledge,
Real niggas don’t be finishing college,”
I said that’s real talk

Brenda’s Baby prod by Louis G.

Verse
Brenda’s baby is grown
While I’m out here watching a throne
Trying to reach thugging teens with a poem
Maybe go from unknown to people saying Stimuli done blown
The eff up guess what,
I just sound like a clone I’m sorry
Spitting it raw but shifting my course
It’s been 15 years without Mister Shakur
And if you think about the shit that he saw
I hope the pictures I draw can come close
‘Cause I give you my all
It’s real,
It’s funny to hear my flow
Never dreamed I would be getting money to bear my soul,
Thinking bout the times and the hoods where we reside
Shit is wild Brenda’s baby’s like twenty years old
Pac thought the world was cursed in,
Felt the adverse of the slogan live by the gun
I’m still stuck in this game he tried to run,
Well he did kind of run it I’m sad his time is done
But the issues he was bringing up, stories that he gave
Are the issues still facing us,
Call us mental slaves
I aint talking just blacks, in the hood we all the same
The government sees statistics so Brenda’s kid has no name
Father is her cousin
Grandmother punks her
She hears plenty stories bout being left in a dumpster
So she’s not supposed to make it
The ghetto should take her under
You expect her on the pole or something since nobody loved her
Mama died prostituting
No one heard her cries
Pac was busy yelling hit em up
When she was turning five
We was worried bout the coastal war
Picking choosing sides
Bad boy made noise
Then our biggest heroes died
It was like we lost the Malcolm and Martin
Of our young generation they was just getting started
No arrests even made when there’s rappers that’s targeted for assassination
They ain’t even pressing no charges it’s messed up

The country is falling, disease is spreading
My people are dying, economy’s hurting the seeds are embedded
With pain and desire to try to get the cheese the bread
The papers, the dollars, the politics are keeping us dead,
And the labels are losing and Youtube is winning
The students are stupid, the teachers ain’t getting no pay so they missing
The president’s different, he tells us his vision
But then television is probably killing the minds of the children
The brothers are niggas the sisters are bitches the rappers are liars,
The mamas are babies the babies are crying,
You hear it, thee alarm clocks are going off
Y’all not listening, little girls are showing off
They big tits and they asses
The shit’s sickening, pastors are stick pricking the catholic little kids,
And I’m rapping this slick shit while the,
Haters are stabbing the teens are slicing
America’s chuckling at us, while we rocking our ice and
We think we get money, we making it rain and we paying the strippers we popping the bottles the owners get richer
They owning the clubs, and they owning the drugs and they owning the liquor We taking the shots and they keeping the picture
It’s real, the music is weaker the albums ain’t selling
We talking bout nothing the albums ain’t selling
We talk about hustling, clapping and selling
And half of us was really clapping or selling I used to rap like you I was seven

Dreamgirl prod by Black Metaphor
Verse 1
Damn I just damn I want damn I used to lust her but my homie got her pregnant and that dude was like my brother I
Seen her out in Georgia at my show and I just hugged her and she said they not together
Maybe we should have some lunch or
How bout dinner
And then breakfast she suggested but she laughed
Like she flirted I diverted when we met she sounded sad
I said you working, she said

“Daily, making doe I bust my ass to feed my kids,
You got two kids?
“I got two kids with different dads”
She said her crib is halfway decent,
“I thank God for what I have
But I’m living check to check its like I’m paying for my past,
I be dating I be hating when I’m dating dudes are fast
Wanting pussy but they pussy
Hope that I’m not sounding crass
But I saw you on that stage and I’m so hype you chose your path,”
I said
Sorta kinda but the road to making cash
It got some bumps it got some hills and they forget you in a flash
Think she thought I wanted sex but then again I might be gassed
I remember when she sang her voice was Fergie mixed with Jesus
Now she said she only sings to make her babies fall asleep
and
I said maybe you should write, I could send a couple beats
She said I should spend the night instead of trying to come and preach
I used to be a mother fucker but it left me incomplete
And she was fine but I declined and then I finished up my speech
I said passion is a start to finding out the missing piece
To know your calling, if your want to capture happiness and peace
You got to dream girl

Chorus
Dream girl dream girl
Dream girl
Turn your life into a movie and just dream girl dream girl
Dream girl dream girl
Everyday you got a duty that’s to dream

Verse 2
Yes I give my number out to those who are supporters
So I met her through the net and I was blessed to come across her
She was special she was helpful when the industry was torturing my soul
We got close when she exposed she lost a daughter
That was only seven months, it was tragic I was asking
How her man was holding up she said the dude had packed his bags
‘Cause she went in to depression
And he said he couldn’t hack it
He was mad that she was sad and now she’s mad that he abandoned her
And
I’m getting messages that I can’t even answer
Lotta what the fucks and why’s and how the hell did I get cancer
How am I supposed to tell her not to hold on to the pampers
And the room wit decorations and the teddy bear and pandas?
I
Can’t help her, even songs that I be sending
They uplift her for a second
Make her value her possessions
So I came up with some crap about the child being a blessing
That was meant to grace her presence for a moment or a segment
And she’s
Never dead
‘Cause her soul is still existing but its best to let her go
While I was flowing she was listening
Even though I never met her ‘cause our residents are distant
She would call me like a friend she asked me if I had a mission
I said
Well a little see ‘cause rap is like a vessel
Got me speaking to the masses I’m a sent from heaven devil
So
Girl I know you trying to hit that upper level of your life
You can reach your child forever at night when you

Chorus

Angels & Demons prod by Emazin
Chorus
I got these angels on my shoulder
3X
But these demons keep on talking and they trying to win me over hey

Verse 1
I wake up with the voice in my head that says God’s watching
Studied scriptures and even skimmed thru Allah’s doctrine
Minutes later I’m thinking of killing haters and ways to bring in some paper so having faith is a hard option
My moms told me that praying will get me far in life
And anytime it gets hectic just give your heart to Christ
But I don’t know if the Lord can help my bars get tight
Or make the fans think I’m a star that’s nice I’m an artist writing
Real shit real feelings
Angels in my ear
Like do better be better, pick a new career
Maybe teacher, preacher, counselor, physicist, engineer
Someone doing things with meaning for people
But then I hear
These demons with the horns like rap, rhyme spit it
Do a song wit a dance, talk about the slutty bitches
Put half naked chicks in the video pour liquor
on they asses,
Throw some stacks at the camera and yell nigga nigga nigga
I’m ill I’m getting it, fuck school,
Sell drugs, get a buzz, rock some shiny fake jewels
But the angels come back screaming make smart cool
Put depth in your music, reach the youngest, dumbest fools
While you kill it over beats and they sleeping
You break the rules
And have ‘em thinking while they smoking and drinking and gripping tools.
And I choose the dark side, sorta like Trey and Doughboy in that car ride
And then I shout Dough let me out
Knowing that this is wrong
I’m conflicted in my life and in my songs y’all don’t hear me

Chorus

Verse 2
Got me thinking bank robbery Obama I need change
I envision car jacking this old man in the range
Angels – work hard at your craft and deal with the pain
Everyday ain’t always sunny you want to just make it rain
Demons- Sha look at how long you been in the game
Aint nobody trying to hear what you yapping, you sound lame,
You ain’t shooting, you ain’t selling
You ain’t balling, you the same
Dude rapping bout your raps in your raps then you complain
Damn
But the angels start to whisper
Wife up a queen then the demons tell me diss her
The soldiers with the wings say lift brothers and sisters
But the creatures with the tails say get money consistent
Angels say God’s son showed you the path
Demons say the savior was hated until he passed.
Sha you was born broke, parents called you accident
Jesus got gold and a holiday named after him
Angels want me Christian or catholic with wife and kids
Demons want me flipping bricks getting clapped or doing a bid
Angels
Forget the whores and the groupies, the music biz
Demons, thinking small you’ll never be Pac or Big stupid

Chorus

The Awakening prod by GZ Beats
I walked up in the office
It was Monday
Mundane, no one really talking,
I was typing, it was quiet, asked my boss
I mean my supervisor could I probably get this Friday off
‘Cause I got an obligation
They don’t know I spit and they don’t care my occupation
Is eating any shit that they keep stacking on my plate and it was killing my spirit, before I left I looked myself in the mirror like Wake up!

Kids growing up in my hood,
Survivor’s more than a game show
Teenagers drink and they smoke good
And rep gangs with the colors from the rainbow
My dumb ass tried to intervene
Saw my little man told him get his cream
You don’t got to go to war homie live a dream,
Even if you use the triple beam, cut the killing scenes
The youngin laughed so hard, pulled up his skinny jeans
Said you don’t know what cripping means
Or what Bloods do
I love your music
But the neutrals are lame
It’s not an option I can’t get out the game Wake up!

She called my phone with the sad voice
Said she bout to take a good sleep made a bad choice
My words that used to get her mad moist
Got her letting out tears I let her be near
But not near enough and I’m wondering is she bluffing
Maybe she wasn’t so I got to do something
I ran to her rest I saw the pills on the table
I said the afterlife is not gonna save you wake up!

We all equal
But I boldly discriminate
Each time we say pause that’s exhibit A.
Doesn’t mean I exhibit hate, short story
Out with shawty on a dinner date
She spotted this dude that used to penetrate
Her way back in college I said I don’t think that kid is straight
She said now he’s married to they classmate
So why’s he holding hands on a man date?
She ran over with the mad face
Called him a fag wit mad hate
He said I’m not gay,
The other cat rolled his eyes
And said no he’s happily married and just bi…bye
She yelled out why
Dude was looking shook, claimed it was a lie
I love my wife,
I creep on the side
So the fuck what?
The girl almost cried.
She said “I bet you tell her you in the studio
While you in another man’s booty hole
Then you go raw in her coochie yo
If you gon’ do it, don’t do it low”
I pulled her away, she said, “I’m not homophobic
But I think as a man, you should really know your choices
Can affect peoples live,”
He was tight, she was right
I said dog go confess to your wife wake up!

I used to hit the block
I ain’t even hit it, I tapped it
And not a lot
Just made enough for some Jordans and a watch
Small time runner delivering to the spot
A girl that always copped, came wit a coat and
It was June, is she stupid yo my dude snatched it open
Saw a stomach we was bugging like ma you must be joking,
Couple months pregnant and you smoking,
The next few words,
That I heard that were spoken
Had me up the next morning in college fucking enrolling,
The fiend said, “Y’all know I got a teenage daughter
She’s real pretty, y’all can have her if y’all want her,
This baby here I can’t afford to abort her,
So I’m hoping that the smoke will put the fetus in a coma.”
Then she said, “Look
Y’all don’t worry please,
About God cursing you for nursing me,
Blame that same God for birthing me
And letting that man molest me back in nursery.”
She said, “Can you imagine what it’s like
Wishing that your child would runaway every night,
Hoping each day is the end of all my strife
So I go to sleep praying to Christ that I don’t wake up!

Call On Me feat. Danny Sky High prod by J. Cardim

Verse 1
S to the T
I to the M
U to the L
I once again
Give you my words, speak with my pen
Healing the world, let me begin,
Since I was 10, told all my friends that I would win
I never been one to pretend I apologize if I offend
The same way you singing out hymns
Every time you singing about Him,
Asking can He give you forgiveness because you done sinned,
Or you need a miracle or somebody lyrical,
Why you looking at me all funny? Am I hysterical?
Am I too facetious? Saying that I’m Jesus nah this is me just appearing to be what people might need in case they was looking for someone to lead I know I be coming and switching my speed, but, that’s the hunger that’s the greed that’s the eagerness I’m bringing I can hear my phone ringing
I’m like Spider man to Mary Jane,
Superman to Lois Lane a fireman to kill the flames,
Preacher man that made a change

Chorus
Ladies throw your hands up gangsters throw your hands up
Everybody in the congregation throw your hands up
Get your books out let’s pray together
Everybody rise let’s say it together,
It goes Bs, Cs, hustlers, Gs
I’m the savior of the game you can call on me

Verse 2
I was wondering who to pray to
This Spanish mami told me Jesus
Hey who wait whom you talking bout the savior the same dude
Heard that I accept him I’m saved too
I guess that great news
But you gotta follow and stay true
Go to some church and pay dues
One day I went,
It was like magic something happened to me I had a break thru
It wasn’t the sermon, it wasn’t the message, it was the people,
Everybody had that vibe that we were happy and equal
Yea some folks was extra and I couldn’t believe em
And they was dwelling on good against evil
I understood though
Started thinking
That men women and children
Can change their hearts just by walking in a building
Preacher man spitting, his words were like a lesson
Choir made me shiver, some stranger gave me a blessing
I’m here pondering hell and is there heaven
And if I might be an atheist late wit my confession
I told you I believed on my last CD
But I been shaky for the last three weeks
These are the convos you have when you passing the trees
Or in the bed trying to catch you some Z’s
But you can’t…
The same way you sing about Him
Every time you singing out hymns
I want you to feel my music when its like you can’t win.
So I send songs and show you that I sinned
I lose my way, I cry, I stray, I get down, I get up, I have dreams, I pray
Thru text thru email, twitter direct message
And I never woulda made it if somebody didn’t get it
I ask who’s the boss with the power to hire
I applied for this position, there’s a power that’s higher
And I’m
So damn scared that the day that I die I’ll
Be sent to eternal fire
For pushing, cheating and lying
God help please
I was trying to pattern myself after the son
I’m not rapping for fun
Can you tell me?
Why I’ve been created
I know that I’m not your favorite
I’m like an angel
That’s jaded
I’m just saying I’ll pray if you make me immortal
Thru my lyrics or a little son or daughter that would call on me

Bridge
Don’t know where I’m going heaven or hell
I walk around free but my minds in a jail,
Going thru things and I know you can tell
If you feel like me I can help you can call on me

My Calling prod by Nicademus

I know you ask yourself a thousand times
Should you just keep dreaming are you out your mind? .
Its like if I get in the booth and doubt my rhymes
It’s like you giving up on your mission without you trying.
Sometimes you gotta leave your house to grind
Make different circles that connect just like that Audi sign
They ask me when will I run out of lines
That’s like questioning your father
Don’t get out of line
But I know what you mean
You peep your competition and some of em in they teens
Got you in the fitting room wiggling in your jeans
‘Cause you trying to fit in
That’s just too extreme
Had a homegirl that was a singer now she teaching
Got another friend that was a stripper now she preaching
My dude was a rapper but his lyrics had him reaching doing videos w hoes fake jewels flashing heat and
When I saw it and he asked my opinion, we was speaking I said,
You got some shit but I really was meaning feces,
He started second guessing what was coming out his mouth
Month later son called me up like what’s this all about?
They writing comments on his shit it made him want to switch his route
He said he bout to get a Luger beat and say he’s from the south
And I pretended that my signal dropped
Yesterday his single dropped
Wish they had a red light on youtube that signaled stop. .
But people keep going
And who am I to tell em that they not the illest flowing
I was over at the Wendy’s bout to cop a number ten
Cashier looked at me with a spooky, silly grin
Said he seen me on the blogs, yo what’s up your name is Stim right? Sha that’s You, yo I told you that was him
I was hype for a second but I kind of held it in
Son gave me a pound, then called over his friend
Like yo my man’s nice we get busy we go in,
We just working so we stack up this bread, we bout to win
I was thinking yea right
But looking like I’m real involved but mostly hoping that they speed up my order ’cause I was starving,
Then they handed me a CD with the name written in marker
And an insert wit misspelled words I said you charging
They said, free for me and the meal is on the house,
And they gave me extra barbecue sauce I walked out
Feeling weird, sort of happy that they seen I wasn’t balling
Now they know I’m down to earth and since I’m there I’m never falling
But my thought were steady drifting
‘Cause those kids believe their mission is to spit and feel like rapping is their one and only c