Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ghetto Manifesto, artist - The Coup. Date of issue: 28.01.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ghetto Manifesto |
| I’ve been trying to get into this, uh, house party but they ain’t playing |
| nothing I can feel, you know what I mean? |
| They playin' a little somethin' here and there, but I don’t know, I might be— |
| I write my lyrics on parking tickets and summons to the court |
| I scribbled this on an application for county support |
| I practice this like a sport, met Donald Trump and he froze up |
| Standing on his Bentley yelling, «Pimps down, hoes up» |
| Some tryin' to front off, break our ass a clump off |
| We gon' stop the world and make y’all motherfuckers jump off |
| This is my resume slash resignation |
| A ransom note with proposed legislation |
| A fevered ultimatum, you should take it verbatim |
| 'Cause I got two bangin' pieces and you don’t wanna date 'em |
| Flyin' kites for my folks at home who takin' tokes alone |
| We payin' rent on shit they don’t even supposed to own |
| Narratin' through my verse, agitatin' you to curse |
| It’s a million motherfuckers just waitin' on the first |
| Anticipatin' on the worst, wanna weightin' up ya purse? |
| Shut the jobby-job down at noon and don’t disperse! |
| They wouldn’t pay ya ass as far as they could throw you |
| They think you punkin' but they don’t know you |
| This a turf operata, play with 12-shot Berettas |
| By the Burger King workers who be slappin' on ya lettuce |
| Wrote that in the back of those apartments |
| On coupons from agricultural departments |
| When we put down the XO, we can let the threats go |
| And start shit, it’s the ghetto manifesto |
| That’s what I’m talking about |
| Make me scream and shout |
| East, West, North, and South |
| Gonna turn this party out (hey, hey) |
| That’s what I’m talking about |
| Make me scream and shout |
| East, West, North, and South |
| Gonna turn this party out (hey, hey) |
| Call me bird 'cause of my legs but my ass don’t sing |
| Got a house arrest anklet but it don’t bling-bling |
| Got a homie with a cell but that shit don’t ring |
| But at lights out, bars clang and souls get stained |
| Now it’s the hustler’s soundtrack, where they muscle around blacks |
| Make ya thoughts heavy, drop a jewel and make the ground crack |
| Even renowned hack historians have found that |
| The people only bound back when they pound back |
| So I take out a spray can and pace the pavement |
| Deface engravements of a suffering they sent |
| The fouls are flagrant and death’s the fragrance |
| I overheard them askin' vagrants for patience |
| So check the liner notes, I steal my finer quotes |
| From D-boys tryna float and Bourgies in designer boats |
| And party liner jokes and all kind of folks who kinda of broke |
| But bought twenties cause they feel like a minor spoke |
| The trees we got lifted by made our feet dangle |
| So when I say burn one, I mean the Star-Spangled |
| Let’s all get high from the income angle |
| Bump this at the party even if it ain’t the single |
| Here’s a slum serenade on razor blades and grenades |
| By the nannies and maids who be polishin' the suede |
| You could let the cess blow but let’s make the sets grow |
| Into brigades with the ghetto manifesto |
| That’s what I’m talking about |
| Make me scream and shout |
| East, West, North, and South |
| Gonna turn this party out (hey, hey) |
| That’s what I’m talking about |
| Make me scream and shout |
| East, West, North, and South |
| Gonna turn this party out (hey, hey) |
| That’s what I’m talking about |
| Make me scream and shout |
| East, West, North, and South |
| Gonna turn this party out (hey, hey) |
| That’s what I’m talking about |
| Make me scream and shout |
| East, West, North, and South |
| Gonna turn this party out (hey, hey) |