| The chimp in the jungle, I like to gather in wisdom in bundles
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| My arms swing from the branches of life, I write humble
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| My notes are crumbled, my hopes are fumbled
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| Can’t drop it, a ghost among you folk that stumbled ‘cross logic
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| I’m definite, like change. |
| I strain with rewards while
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| Speck and, Enoch start banging on boards
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| Daily routines like fiends that’s stuck on the crack pipe
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| I rhyme over feedback, dare mics not to act right
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| The emcee, and see y’all just tempt me with
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| All ya propaganda, ya souls are empty
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| I was born free, now I stay confined, in this day of time
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| A slave to the ways of the world, although I’m not blind
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| Machine gotta, hold on ya blue jean products
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| Whether you white or black, rich, or poverty’s product
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| It’s a known fact, sorta like forty acres they owe blacks
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| I might, hitch hike on hope’s road and never go back
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| I was born free, but now I’m like a slave to society
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| Can’t get a license without consent to field sobriety
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| If you have a plan, they say life will flow beautifully
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| I need tech support like Vanilla Sky
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| ‘Cause someone lied to me, told me shit was cool
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| I made good grades, but damn, then got kicked outta school
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| It doesn’t matter, my computer doesn’t read the data
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| Even if you’re smart, your life still can get shattered
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| Into little pieces, this is my thesis
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| Just ‘cause I raised BB in the belly of the beasts
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| My people died in vain, the pain is on my brain
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| And how can I get by when held by this mental strain?
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| I just don’t understand, I be’s a grown ass man
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| But every time I see the cops they make me lift my hands
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| So they can pat me down, and I just don’t see how
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| I played by they rules but they still treat me foul
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| Damn!
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| So what is this I’m living, day in and day out earning
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| My soul I hope to spend it, it’s the petty change I’m getting'
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| Back through transactions, money limits my actions
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| I try to raise up but—(damn, damn)
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| Trying to move I struggle, moving through hurt’s trouble
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| Bumping my head against the ceiling—I ain’t even stumble
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| My eyes are black and blue, rattle my shackles too
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| I try to remove 'em but damn
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| Sounds like that I’m in jail, but really I’m in hell
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| The space between my two ears became my private cell
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| Ready and willing, able, anything justice stable
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| They just cut off my cable!
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| No food up in the kitchen, but I got dirty dishes
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| Does that make any sense?
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| My life ain’t ever easy, my girlfriend’s gonna leave me
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| Who scratched my Nas CD? |