| Hey look at this! |
| I was cleaning out my nest
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| and I found a book of my old poetry
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| (Ice Cube)
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| Fresh out of school cause I was a high school grad
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| gots to get a job cuz I was a high school dad
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| Wish I got paid like I was rappin’to the nation
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| but thats not likely, so here’s my application
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| Pass it to the man at AT&T
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| Cuz when I was in school I got the a. |
| e. |
| e.
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| But there’s no s. |
| e. |
| for this youngsta
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| I didn’t have no money so now I have to hunch the
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| Back like a slave, thats what be happenin
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| but whitey says there’s no room for the African
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| Always knew that I would boycott, jeez
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| but welcome to McDonalds can I take your order please
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| Gotta sell ya food that might give you cancer
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| cuz my baby doesn’t take no for an answer
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| Now I pay taxes that you never give me back
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| what about diapers, bottles, and similac
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| Do I gotta go sell me a whole lotta crack
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| for decent shelter and clothes on my back?
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| Or should I just wait for help from Bush
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| or Jesse Jackson, and operation Push
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| If you ask me the whole thing needs a douch
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| a masengel what the hell cracker sale in the neighborhood
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| To the whorehouse bitches,
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| Miss porker, little joe or Todd Bridges
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| Or anybody that he know
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| so I got me a bird, better known as a kilo
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| Now everybody know I went from po’to a nigga that got dough
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| So now you put the feds against me cause I couldn’t follow the plan of the presidency
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| I’m never givin’love again
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| Cuz blacks are too fuckin broke to be republican
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| Now I remember I used to be cool
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| till I stopped fillin’out my W-2
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| Now senators are gettin’hired
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| and your plan against the ghetto backfired
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| So now you got a pep talk
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| but sorry, this is our only room to walk
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| Cause we don’t want a drug push
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| But a bird in the hand is worth more than the bush
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| tell the politicians, the hustlers: live and let live (yeah)
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| tell the politicians, the hustlers: live and let live (yeah) |