If You Cry (3:25)

Tear ducts seem such a useless tool
To a man’s feelings forged in the arts of cool
Solidarity’s king and the heart’s the fool
The jester only in jest can be left to rule
Men of steel ain’t allowed to feel
Hardened exteriors aren’t allowed to peel
Emotional blows taken aren’t allowed to heal
Head tells the chest it’s too proud to kneel
Before any sign or symbol of sentimental
Deep pains displayed ‘bout the depth of a thimble

Emotions are a potion meant to poison the temples
Streaks down the cheeks are for the weak and the simple
Society’s asylum for the evil that men do
Inside you cry, outside you Hindu
When my nigga died, wet eyes no tissues
Ex-cons and killers finding shoulders to cling to



Tear ducts seem such a waste of flesh
On a body that’s eventually defaced by death
Solidarity reigns and curse your breath
Inhale your emotions ‘til it hurts your chest
No heart on your sleeve tough guy in-vest
Bank on the sins that you earned in flesh
Eyes are inflamed you get burned for less
Your vanity’s a wound that your tears infect
A fool is the food that our fears ingest
So the cool is the fuel that our peers inject
Emotions are a token of the heart’s intent
But the streaks on your cheek makes your heart resent
A man made of stone has nothing to say
When he can’t keep The Nothing at bay
When my Grandfather died, dry eyes no tissues
But damn I miss you