| The bottom feeder, God believers
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| Can’t foresee winning, but quitting isn’t an option either
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| We spit the mantra that Nas delivered the ROC on «Ether»
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| I will not lose (listen)
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| Sick grin while I sip gin from a goblet, see your
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| Holy Grail runneth over with what I’ve been bleeding
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| Poison melody, aim and poise steadily
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| Pedigree of the Kennedys, bad luck and destiny
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| See the peasantry seek hope in serenity
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| Find heaven in chemistry, unplanned pregnancy
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| Minds caught in zealotry, unlimited weaponry
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| Lower than leprosy, starstruck by celebrity
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| No longevity, no story or legacy
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| Erase the future with death the only penalty
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| No identity, trapped in the hegemony
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| Turn neighbors to enemies, repeat the elegy
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| And we got nothing
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| Waiting on our meal ticket like, fuck it
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| Till the day we die, our shoulders holding up that sky
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| And we don’t budge and we don’t flinch
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| And we don’t shrug, not a single inch
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| Till the day we die
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| Our shoulders holding up that sky
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| They acting like they got the world on their shoulders
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| Looking at us like we’re earners or soldiers
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| Fill up their banks or go fill up their tanks
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| Greed, money, and death they instill in their ranks
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| But soon enough their little burden is over
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| People are learning slow, their co-word isn’t covert
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| Not hard to decipher, not murdering Dozers
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| People are waking up to the birds and the Folgers
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| Highly classified and preserved in a folder
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| Only to be exposed when the world’s turning over (yeah)
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| Seems like the world’s doing homework
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| The rich have spent a hundred years digging their own dirt
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| And we’re almost to six feet, critical mass
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| Pitiful, let’s pickle the pigs feet
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| Feet to the fire so the fire can burn
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| The water’s dirty, we fight fire with fire returned (c'mon)
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| And we got nothing
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| Waiting on our meal ticket like, fuck it
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| Till the day we die, our shoulders holding up that sky
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| And we don’t budge and we don’t flinch
|
| And we don’t shrug, not a single inch
|
| Till the day we die
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| Our shoulders holding up that sky
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| Are you seriously surprised by the poverty?
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| By default, survivors we gotta be
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| Fuck classism, we defy the propriety
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| Use hierarchy to divide the society
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| Like instead of property we get pollyseeds
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| School of hard-knocks, while they get Ivy League
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| We get commissary, they get college fees
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| So logically I went on a robbing spree
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| Obviously, I was jacking for freedom
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| Acting a heathen, trapped in a mentality
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| That was backwards, the reason
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| Instead of leaving the neighborhood
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| We thought we owned, but was only leasing
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| I would grow to believe in
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| Not waiting on a mule or no acres
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| No patience for liberations, reparations, a better nation
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| Truthfully it’s a struggle, but I admit I’m
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| Accustomed to my condition, suffering from tradition
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| Still
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| And we got nothing
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| Waiting on our meal ticket like, fuck it
|
| Till the day we die, our shoulders holding up that sky
|
| And we don’t budge and we don’t flinch
|
| And we don’t shrug, not a single inch
|
| Till the day we die
|
| Our shoulders holding up that sky |