Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Product, artist - Ice Cube.
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
The Product |
I was told, cause I didn’t witness the whole act |
In and out was the movement of the bozack |
It was hot and sweaty and lots of pushin |
Then the nut came gushin |
And it was hell tryin to bail to the ovary |
With nuttin but the Lord lookin over me I was white with a tail |
But when I reached the finish line, young black male! |
One cell made two, and two cells made fo' |
and so on, so now I’m a embryo |
Then I got a hunch |
that I’ma be on lockdown, for nine months |
Chillin, with my mother to guide me And nuttin but a stomach to hide me from all that worry and bullshit |
Nine months later, I elbow pull and kick |
cause my time is up and I don’t care |
With one big push, I’m outta there |
June 15th, it’s just my luck |
In 1969, a nigga is the product |
Ghetto ass nigga, you ain’t shit, |
and you ain’t gon’never be shit! |
I learned how to walk and talk and all that |
They put me in school, but it don’t matter |
Cause I’m sittin in history |
Learnin bout a sucker, who didn’t give a fuck about me They try to shape us But I know Uncle Sam is a motherfuckin rapist |
So I stopped payin attention |
Ice Cube, headed, straight to detention |
Fuck that shit, I roam the hallways |
I’m sent home and I don’t got all A’s |
A high school dropout |
My father had beef so I tried to knock pops out |
But I got tossed, he’s the boss |
I’m out of there and mad cause I lost |
Now bein on my own is a factor |
So I become, the neighborhood jacker |
Gimme your car, run your jewels |
Makin a livin robbin fools |
And if I let my nine rang out |
You know, it’ll make your brains hang out |
So what’s your fate? |
Am I the nigga you love, or the one you love to hate? |
The wrong answer is said, the nigga fled |
I pump lead, now he’s in a puddle of red |
And if you got a buck, you’re shit out of luck |
Stuck up by the motherfuckin product |
Uh-uh motherfucker you gots to get a job |
if you wanna stay in my motherfuckin house |
Many young men reject the traditional values |
that are important to their parents. |
Church, school and family |
have been replaced by street, turf, and gang. |
Twenty-one now, and paid in full |
Feelin bad, from all the shit I pulled |
on people back in the day |
Plus, I got a little baby on the way |
So I’m tryin to go straight |
I’m with my baby’s momma, out on a date |
Til the punk ass cops ran my plate |
Now I’m on a bus upstate |
Oh, the young nigga done caught a case! |
Sittin in the mess hall, sayin my grace →LL Cool J Sent to a concrete hoe-house |
Where all the products go, no doubt |
Yo momma, I gotta do eleven |
Livin in a five by seven |
Dear baby, your man’s gettin worn out |
of seein young boys gettin they assholes torn out |
And then he got shanked with a spoon |
And he was 'sposed to get out soon |
Is it my fault, he was caught in production |
Where a young black life means nothin |
Just because, I didn’t want to learn your grammar |
you say I’m better off in the slammer |
And it’s drivin me batty |
Cause my little boy, is missin daddy |
I’m ashamed, but the fact is I wish pops let me off on the mattress |
Or should I just hang from the top bunk |
But that’s goin out like a punk |
My life is FUCKED! |
But it ain’t my fault, cause I’m the motherfuckin product |
He ain’t shit |