“Mortal Man” is a song by American rapper Kendrick Lamar, from his third studio album “To Pimp a Butterfly” (2015). The song features a spoken word segment from a conversation with a deceased African American activist, Tupac Shakur.
Kendrick Lamar wrote and make the song with Sounwave, a member of his tag, Top Dawg Entertainment, The song’s lyrics explore themes of racialism, black empowerment, and the fight of progressing up in Compton, California.
The song’s final segment features a simulated conversation between Kendrick Lamar and Tupac Shakur, created by interpolating audio from a 1994 interview with Tupac. In the segment, Kendrick Lamar asks Tupac for advice on how to navigate the challenges of being a black icon in America. Tupac’s responses offer words of wisdom and encouragement, emphasizing the importance of staying true to oneself and one’s community.
“Mortal Man” received widespread critical applause for its lyrical profundity, sonic innovation, and the powerful discussion with Tupac Shakur. The song has been praised for its thought-provoking themes and its role in sparking important debate about race and social justice.
Overall, “Mortal Man” is a landmark song in Kendrick Lamar’s discography, showcasing his storytelling faculty, lyrical deftness and commitment to research the experiences of black people in America.
Lyrics
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it
Let these words be your earth and moon
You consume every message
As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression
And with that being said my nigga, let me ask this question:
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan (one two, one two)
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it
Let these words be your earth and moon
You consume every message
As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression
And with that being said my nigga, let me ask this question:
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
Do you believe in me? Are you deceiving me?
Could I let you down easily, is your heart where it need to be?
Is your smile on permanent? Is your vow on lifetime?
Would you know where the sermon is if I died in this next line?
If I’m tried in a court of law, if the industry cut me off
If the government want me dead, plant cocaine in my car
Would you judge me a drug-head or see me as K. Lamar
Or question my character and degrade me on every blog
Want you to love me like Nelson, want you to hug me like Nelson
I freed you from being a slave in your mind, you’re very welcome
You tell me my song is more than a song, it’s surely a blessing
But a prophet ain’t a prophet til they ask you this question:
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it
Let my words be your earth and moon you consume every message
As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression
And with that
Do you believe in me? How much you believe in her?
You think she gon’ stick around if them 25 years occur?
You think he can hold you down when you down behind bars hurt?
You think y’all on common ground if you promise to be the
First? Can you be immortalised without your life being expired?
Even though you share the same blood is it worth the time?
Like who got your best interest?
Like how much are you dependent?
How clutch are the people that say they love you?
And who pretending?
How tough is your skin when they turn you in?
Do you show forgiveness?
What brush do you bend when dusting
Your shoulders from being offended?
What kind of den did they put you in when the lions start hissing?
What kind of bridge did they burn?
Revenge or your mind when it’s mentioned?
You wanna love like Nelson, you wanna be like Nelson
You wanna walk in his shoes but you peacemaking seldom
You wanna be remembered that delivered the message
That considered the blessing of everyone
This your lesson for everyone, say
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
Want you look to your left and right, make sure you ask your friends
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
The voice of Mandela, hope this flow stay propellin’
Let my word be your Earth and moon
You consume every message
As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression
And if you riding with me, nigga
I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issues
I hold grudges like bad judges, don’t let me resent you
That’s not Nelson-like, want you to love me like Nelson
I went to Robben’s Island analysing, that’s where his cell is
So I could find clarity, like how much you cherish me
Is this relationship a fake or real as the heavens be?
See I got to question it all, family, friends, fans, cats, dogs
Trees, plants, grass, how the wind blow
Murphy’s Law, generation X, will I ever be your X?
Floss off a baby step, mauled by the mouth of
Pit bulls, put me under stress
Crawled under rocks, ducking y’all, it’s respect
But then tomorrow, put my back against the wall
How many leaders you said you needed then left ’em for dead?
Is it Moses, is it Huey Newton or Detroit Red?
Is it Martin Luther, JFK, shoot or you assassin
Is it Jackie, is it Jesse, oh I know, it’s Michael Jackson, oh
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
That nigga gave us Billie Jean, you say he touched those kids?
When shit hit the fan, is you still a fan?
The ghost of Mandela, hope my flows they propel it
Let my word be your earth and moon you consume every message
As I lead this army make room for mistakes and depression
And if you riding with me nigga, let me ask this question nigga
“I remember you was conflicted
Misusing your influence
Sometimes I did the same
Abusing my power, full of resentment
Resentment that turned into a deep depression
Found myself screaming in the hotel room
I didn’t wanna self destruct
The evils of Lucy was all around me
So I went running for answers
Until I came home
But that didn’t stop survivor’s guilt
Going back and forth trying to convince myself the stripes I earned
Or maybe how A-1 my foundation was
But while my loved ones was fighting the
Continuous war back in the city, I was entering a new one
A war that was based on apartheid and discrimination
Made me wanna go back to the city and tell the homies what I learned
The word was respect
Just because you wore a different gang color than mine’s
Doesn’t mean I can’t respect you as a black man
Forgetting all the pain and hurt we caused each other in these streets
If I respect you, we unify and stop the enemy from killing us
But I don’t know, I’m no mortal man, maybe I’m just another nigga”
Shit and that’s all I wrote
I was gonna call it Another Nigga but, it ain’t really a poem,
I just felt like it’s something you probably could relate to.
Other than that, now that I finally got a chance to holla at you,
I always wanted to ask you about a certain situa–,
About a metaphor actually, you spoke on the ground.
What you mean ’bout that, what the ground represent?
The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil
Right
That’s how I see it, my word is bond.
I see–and the ground is the symbol for the poor people,
The poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up the
Rich people. Cause the rich people gonna be so fat,
They gonna be so appetising, you know what I’m saying, wealthy,
Appetising. The poor gonna be so poor and hungry,
You know what I’m saying it’s gonna be like… there might
Be some cannibalism out this mutha, they might eat the rich
Aight so let me ask you this then,
Do you see yourself as somebody that’s rich or
Somebody that made the best of their own opportunities?
I see myself as a natural born hustler,
A true hustler in every sense of the word. I took nothin’,
I took the opportunities,
I worked at the most menial and degrading job and built myself up so
I could get it to where I owned it.
I went from having somebody manage me to me hiring the person that
Works my management company.
I changed everything I realized my destiny in a matter of five years
You know what I’m saying I made myself a millionaire.
I made millions for a lot of people now it’s time to make millions
For myself, you know what I’m saying.
I made millions for the record companies,
I made millions for these movie companies, now I make millions for us
And through your different avenues of success,
How would you say you managed to keep a level of sanity?
And by my faith in “all good things come to those that stay true.
” You know what I’m saying, and it was happening to me for a reason,
You know what I’m saying, I was noticing, shit,
I was punching the right buttons and it was happening.
So it’s no problem,
You know I mean it’s a problem but I’m not
Finna let them know. I’m finna go straight through
Would you consider yourself a fighter at heart or
Somebody that only reacts when they back is against the wall?
Shit, I like to think that at every opportunity I’ve ever been
Threatened with resistance, it’s been met with resistance.
And not only me but it goes down my family tree.
You know what I’m saying, it’s in my veins to fight back
Aight well, how long you think it take before niggas be like,
We fighting a war,
I’m fighting a war I can’t win and I wanna lay it all down
In this country a black man only have like 5 years we can exhibit
Maximum strength, and that’s right now while you a teenager,
While you still strong or while you still wanna lift weights,
While you still wanna shoot back.
Cause once you turn 30 it’s like they take the heart and soul out of
A man, out of a black man in this country.
And you don’t wanna fight no more.
And if you don’t believe me you can look around,
You don’t see no loud mouth 30-year old muthafuckas
That’s crazy, because me being one of your offspring of the legacy
You left behind I can truly tell you that there’s nothing but turmoil
Goin’ on so I wanted to ask you what you
Think is the future for me and my generation today?
I think that niggas is tired of grabbin’ shit out the stores and next
Time it’s a riot there’s gonna be, like, uh, bloodshed for real.
I don’t think America know that.
I think American think we was just playing and it’s gonna be some
More playing but it ain’t gonna be no playing. It’s gonna be murder,
You know what I’m saying, it’s gonna be like Nat Turner, 1831,
Up in this muthafucka. You know what I’m saying, it’s gonna happen
That’s crazy man. In my opinion,
Only hope that we kinda have left is music and vibrations,
Lotta people don’t understand how important it is.
Sometimes I be like,
Get behind a mic and I don’t know what type of energy
I’mma push out, or where it comes from. Trip me out sometimes
Because the spirits, we ain’t even really rappin’,
We just letting our dead homies tell stories for us
Damn
I wanted to read one last thing to you.
It’s actually something a good friend
Had wrote describing my world. It says:
“The caterpillar is a prisoner to the streets that conceived it
Its only job is to eat or consume everything
Around it, in order to protect itself from this mad city
While consuming its environment the
Caterpillar begins to notice ways to survive
One thing it noticed is how much the
World shuns him, but praises the butterfly
The butterfly represents the talent,
The thoughtfulness, and the beauty within the caterpillar
But having a harsh outlook on life the caterpillar sees the
Butterfly as weak and figures out
A way to pimp it to his own benefits
Already surrounded by this mad city the caterpillar
Goes to work on the cocoon which institutionalizes him
He can no longer see past his own thoughts
He’s trapped
When trapped inside these walls certain ideas take roots,
Such as going home, and bringing back new concepts to this mad city
The result?
Wings begin to emerge, breaking the cycle of feeling stagnant
Finally free, the butterfly sheds light on situations that
The caterpillar never considered, ending the internal struggle
Although the butterfly and caterpillar are
Completely different, they are one and the same.”
What’s your perspective on that?
Pac? Pac?
Pac?!