Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song JU$T, artist - Run the Jewels.
Date of issue: 23.09.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
JU$T |
Mastered economics 'cause you took yourself |
from squalor, (Slave) |
Mastered academics cause your grades |
say you a scholar, (Slave) |
Mastered Instagram cause you can |
instigate a follow, (Shiiiit) |
Look at all these slave masters posin' on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters posin' on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters posin' on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters! |
Business time, I'm on mine, I be minding mine, (Make money) |
Every time on my grind, I'm just tryna shine, (Stay sunny) |
Make a dollar, government they want a dozen dimes, (No cap) |
The petty kind might kill ya cause they |
see you shine. |
(Stay strapped) |
I done had to have a talk with myself plenty times, (For real) |
Am I a hypocrite cuz I know I did plenty crimes? |
(Yes, I'm is) |
I get broke too many times I might slang some |
dimes, (Back to trappin') |
You believe corporations runnin' |
marijuana, (How that happen) |
And your country getting ran by a casino owner, (Oooh) |
Pedophiles sponsor all these fuckin' racist bastards, (They do) |
And I told you once before that you should |
kill your master, (It's true) |
Now that's the line that's probably |
gon' get my ass a-a-ssassinated. |
Master of these politics, you swear that you got options, |
Master of opinion cuz you vote with the white collar, (Slave) |
The 13th Amendment says that slavery's abolished, (Shiiiit) |
Look at all these slave masters posing on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters posing on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters posing on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters posing on yo dollar! |
(Get it) |
Look at all these slave masters! |
(Confucius say) |
Man, you better duck out, get the bag and then bug out, |
But try to run home, you might run your luck out, |
Cause just when your bases loaded, they'll |
roll a grenade in the dugout, |
Earth folk not a mellow bunch, we got our thumbs |
in the air like hell or bust. |
Look at who we done blessed with our trust, |
I don't think we'll be left with too much, |
Hand on my heart and my mind on my drugs, got |
a Vonne-gut punch for ya Atlas Shrug, |
They love to not love, it's jus that dumb, |
Lord, sweet Buddha, please, make me numb, |
Brain bounce off walls like a sentient Roomba, |
Who just found out his creators stupid, |
Lit by the super moon, I'm too lucid, |
Plus got shrooms in the blood, I'm zoomin'. |
Beep beep, Richie, this is New York City, |
The x on the map where the pain keep hitting |
Just us ducks here sitting, |
Where murderous choke hold cops still earnin a living. |
Funny how some say money don't matter that's |
rich now, isn't it, get it? |
Comedy, |
But try to sell a pack a smokes to get food, get killed, |
and it's not an anomaly, But hey, it's just money. |
Mastered economics 'cause you took |
yourself from squalor, (Slave) |
Mastered academics cause your grades say |
you a scholar, (Slave) |
Mastered Instagram cause you |
can instigate a follow, (Shiiiit) |
Look at all these slave masters! |
Let it sink in. |
20/20, run the map, |
Raw uncut in my hourglass, |
Don't watch it spill to the bottom half, |
You see the piece, now run it fast. |
On the tarmac in a Starter jack, |
I'm C4 when I runnit back, |
Like a track star run a record lap? |
Nah, like when his needle catch. |
A clean look, a poet pugilist, |
A shooter's view, a Zapruder flick, |
Too rude for ya rudiments, |
Who convinced you? |
You could move against the crew in this, |
Comin up through the fence, |
Offshore outta Port-au-Prince |
Louverture left his fingerprints |
On our hearts at the gate, |
The world our residence. |
How can we be the peace? |
When the beast gonna reach for the worst, |
Tear all the flesh off the earth, |
Stage set for a deafening reckoning, |
Quick like the pace of my verse, |
So I'm questioning this quest for things |
As a recipe for early death threatening, |
But the breath in me is weaponry, |
For you it's just money. |