| Yeah, my Generation Y
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| It’s just what we do!
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| Yeah, now where were you when the towers fell?
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| When folk washed away under broke levees and tsunami swells?
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| And it ain’t hard to tell, so wide like it’s hard to see
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| The separation of uzi shells and artistry
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| Guess it’s the heart in me, flowing like an artery
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| The can’t-figure-for-the-life-of-me why our army be
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| Overseas fighting, Bin Laden been hiding
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| Oil fields guarded, why the FUCK soldiers been dying?
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| I’m the first to salute the troops, send 'em prayers
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| And the first to give a middle finger to the fucks who sent 'em there
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| And brother, why would I ever care?
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| How tit-for-tat get us anywhere? |
| Come on, what’s the method there?
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| How’s that gon' seek peace?
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| When did Hip Hop die? |
| Probably the same night as O.D.B
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| When we gonna realise hope is free?
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| You can call this a love song, you can call it poetry. |
| whatever
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| Yeah, so we say what we say like it’s all or none
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| Cause we’re the ones there when the problems come
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| So we’re the ones tryna change the world
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| My generation asks why
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| We fight, we fight, we fight, we fight
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| We fight, we fight with a fist to the sky
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| We fight, we fight, we fight, we fight
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| We fight, we fight with a fist to the sky
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| Yeah, what happened to the power of one man’s voice
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| When boys my age die from one man’s choice?
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| Happy sipping brews in the sun with the boys
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| All I need is a push but fuck a Rolls-Royce
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| How long we gonna let cash rule in the habit of
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| Not appreciating what the planet’s got?
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| I stopped, switched off the idiot box, fuck a channel swap
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| Why not? |
| It’s real life when the camera’s off
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| I’m like Martin Luther King with a dream
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| And it sure as shit don’t involve Gretel Killeen
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| Make use of my God-given right to speak
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| No threat of bombs dropping’s gonna silence me
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| Ain’t it worth it if we die free?
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| When did Hip Hop die? |
| Probably the same night as B.I.G
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| This from the heart, piece by piece
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| You want to call this a love song? |
| Well it’s sweet by me. |
| whatever man
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| My mouth drops to the trail blazers, no path guide
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| To show the way they made, we don’t ask why
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| We just laugh at how the industry was so damn blind
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| To Hip Hop from our backyard, no gang signs
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| And no cocked nines, none of that nah
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| Just hot rhymes from our own kind, young Aussie minds
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| Why some push poison like the love’s there for exploiting?
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| How long can the culture avoid 'em?
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| Why bother? |
| We good brother, they took cover
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| They mainstream, even our big names hooked up underground
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| I’m asked how I grind till I’m beat
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| Like why would I stay? |
| Bro, why would I leave?
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| It’s one life, one may do with less
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| They say Hip Hop died, but that’s a lie in the A-U-S
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| We going strong from strength to strength
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| Aussie youth of today backed us, so we represent for them. |
| my dudes man |