All us got a due date. All us got a death sentence. One day, we

“All us got a due date. All us got a death sentence. One day, we gonna die.” — thus spoke Kodak Black, not as a philosopher in robes, but as a poet of the streets, a witness to the hard truth that life grants no man escape from mortality. In his raw, unvarnished words, there is the same wisdom that ancient seers once spoke beside fires and temple walls: that death is not a stranger waiting in the shadows, but a companion walking beside us from the moment of birth. Every soul has a due date, and no crown, no coin, no fame can delay its arrival.

Though Kodak’s voice rises from the modern world of music and struggle, the essence of his thought is eternal. The ancients, too, spoke in such terms. The Stoics of Rome would whisper to themselves each morning, memento mori — “remember that you must die.” They believed that the awareness of death’s certainty was not meant to bring despair, but clarity. To know that the hourglass is running is to live with purpose. To know that one’s time is limited is to spend it wisely — in courage, in love, in truth. Kodak’s words carry that same urgency, stripped of ornament, shaped by survival.

For those who live in danger, where life hangs by a thread, the knowledge of mortality is not an abstract idea; it is an ever-present drumbeat. When he says, “All us got a death sentence,” he is not speaking in metaphor — he is naming the truth that few dare to face. Yet hidden within his grim statement lies something fierce and life-affirming: the acceptance of fate, and the determination to live fully before the final hour comes. It is as if he is saying, “Since death is certain, let us live without fear.”

The great warrior Achilles, in the Iliad, knew this truth as well. He was told from youth that he could choose between two destinies: a long, quiet life without glory, or a short life filled with immortal fame. Achilles chose the latter, not because he sought death, but because he understood that death is inevitable, and the only choice left to man is how he will live before it claims him. Kodak’s words, though born in another age and another world, spring from that same flame — the recognition that mortality gives meaning to existence.

To live in denial of death is to waste life’s gift. But to live with its certainty in one’s heart is to be awake — to cherish time, to forgive quickly, to speak truth boldly, to love fiercely. When Kodak speaks of the due date, he reminds us that the clock of life ticks unseen, and that we know not when it will stop. This is not a call to fear, but to gratitude. Every sunrise is borrowed time; every breath, a blessing on loan. When we live as though we will die, we begin to truly live.

There is also humility in his message. “All us”, he says — not some, not the weak or the forgotten, but all. Death levels kings and beggars alike; it knows no privilege, no exception. The mighty fall beside the humble, and the earth receives them both the same. This shared mortality binds all humanity together, reminding us that pride, greed, and hatred are foolish things to cling to when all roads lead to dust. We are equal in beginning and in ending, and so should be equal in kindness.

Thus, the lesson of Kodak Black’s words is as ancient as it is urgent: do not waste your days. Know that death waits for every man, but let that knowledge sharpen, not shatter, your spirit. Live with purpose, not panic. Forgive before the night falls. Love before the voice is silenced. Create something that will outlast you — a deed, a word, a kindness — so that when the due date arrives, you may meet it not with regret, but with peace.

For indeed, “one day, we gonna die” — but until that day comes, we are alive. And to live with the fire of awareness, to breathe with gratitude, to walk without fear — that is the true defiance of death. In knowing the end, we find the beginning of wisdom; in accepting the sentence, we discover the freedom to live.