| 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. |