The counselor asked if I'm hearing voices
I almost said, "What the fuck do you think?"
I'm stuck in here alone, with this dirty ass floor
And a toilet attached to the sink.
But instead I play cool, remain calm
And say, "I take it day by day."
But the truth is I'm scared, and paranoid as shit
In my mind I'm screaming "I AM NOT OKAY!"
Of course I hear voices, and not just these fools
Who yell at each other through steel doors.
Maybe its demons, or spirits, or ghosts.
But it ain't my voice and it sure as hell ain't yours.
Consider this though, I'm locked in this cell
With no one else that I can talk to.
The voices intrigue me and they make me think.
Hell, I get more help from them than from you.
They don't try to trick me, or rush me along
Or skip to "Do you feel like harming yourself?"
They help me pen letters, and order canteen
And remind me to take care of my health,
So the next time she visits, with stupid ass questions
I'm gonna play right along with her game.
When she inquires of me "Are you hearing any voices?"
I'mma say, "Yeah. You want to know these niggas names?"
Here's Malcolm, and Martin, and Marcus Garvey
Emmitt Till and Medger Evers, too.
And I cannot forget, my hero Nathaniel,
Nat Turner, and he's been asking me about you!