| I watched as my parents dreams got foreclosed
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| Thought of my appearance can we afford clothes
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| Crazy to be a teen more ashamed to be seen in your jeans/genes
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| Than to think they were auctioning your home
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| And thats why they call it a ward-robe
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| And that’s why our wallets are all closed
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| When we think of all those orphans no water and no home
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| Ain’t even got a quarter for chalk to draw those
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| And thee award goes to… yo, I’m happy for you I’ma let you finish
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| I got a problem with no Taylor/tailor can you help me fit in
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| 300 $ dollars for a pair just take a selfie in ‘em
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| Few thousand followers to share in our unhealthy visions
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| Look around can you compare to our wealth and privilege
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| Conscious rap it’s a conscious rap
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| Conscious rap it’s a conscious rap
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| Pious and pompous high on it’s horses
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| Find me some causes and I’ll rhyme about that
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| Right and wrong can’t iron them flat
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| Writing a song can’t fire a MAC
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| Got one eye on the sparrow plus an eye on the bat
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| Gotta find a third eye for the track
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| Picture me winning a Grammy providing for my family
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| And then apologizing cus I ain’t black
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| Well nah I ain’t Mack though I get L’s more with less sales
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| Rewind it back the mora «L» is get sales
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| Style the track for the majority who buy it like crack
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| For a songs the only sure way to fire a Mack
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| Alright maybe that was out of order
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| Good cus I’m out of quarters
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| And awards are just a game you play with credit
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| So today I pay with credit
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| Cus my baby’s needing feeding and we out of formula
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| You know how babies need formulas
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| Weed, hoes, and some alcoholic buzz
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| Or deep flows on how those are wrong for us
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| It’s a need for those who long to trust
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| Anyone who keeps them from knowing that there all in us
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| These vices vices meaces mices
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| We all wanna piece till we mice in vice grips
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| We all want peace but we fight for rights
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| Is it black or white when justice calls
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| To judge us all she adjusts her balls
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| This hermaphrodite to her bust we crawl
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| But she tips the scale when the love is gone
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| When the love is gone the love is gone
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| Till you find it above below beyond
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| Till you find it above below beyond
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| Ok so science dropped that atom bomb
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| Religion dropped that Adam bomb
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| You see what happens when reliant on an atoms bond
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| Find it above below beyond
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| Find it above below beyond
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| I was 8 up in that Section 8 and I should mention
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| Never felt ashamed putting change in that collection plate
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| Dad would hate when it clanged and that attention
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| Made it so he refrained from praying in any frame
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| That was built with the intention to guilt and place blame
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| To sit still and not face change
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| I’m saying if this will is free how can we make change
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| To pay a bill made out in our name
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| What a shame what a shame what a shame what a shame
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| All messed up and got no one to blame
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| All dressed up and got nowhere to claim
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| I say a human is a human ain’t a human the king
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| Now who can blame me for my reasons reasons
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| I get so angry I’m seething seething
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| Funny they wanna hang me for things I believe in
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| When it’s the only thing restraining me from kicking their teeth in
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| They say my music is too shameless must be the text
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| It’s drive its too aimless plus when you text and drive it’s too dangerous
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| Must we conceptualize my toons/tunes till its lines are too Danish
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| And we argue till we all blue in our faces
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| Till we all the same hue and we viewed as race-less
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| I said race-less not racists face it
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| I wanted to be Black Thought but I gotta white face
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| Tell me can you have black thoughts with a white face
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| I was brought up on this music taught by its influence
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| So much I never thought it wasn’t my place
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| You wanna know my race
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| Well its against time running rhymes with the hopes that you might chase
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| I had high hopes in 9th grade see I was reading Malcolm
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| Till some irate white faced know it alls came pounding
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| On my thesis with a how come
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| Sorta cracked my glass bubble like they did with brass knuckles
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| And I lost two teeth in the outcome
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| But I was a subject of public housing
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| Growing up on Public Enemy albums
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| And I never feared a black planet damn it
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| All my heroes were black
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| But it appears all my heroes could rap
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| Man it’s a mind twist trying to define this
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| Obsession with the eyes to blind its owner
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| That’s why I rhyme with I’s cus I’m a loaner
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| But when it comes to the eyes guess I’m a donor
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| I got a blue eyed momma a brown skinned pops
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| Got blue on my collar turning brown when it’s hot
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| And it’s hot and it’s felt on the days
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| My credit cards denied for these milk and eggs |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Milk and Eggs , by - Mr. J. Medeiros. Song from the album Milk and Eggs, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп