I am to hip-hop what Obama is to politics
Common, “Sweet,” The Dreamer, The Believer, 2011
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I am to hip-hop what Obama is to politics
I’m a firm believer that we all meet up in eternity,
Just hope the Big Man show me some courtesy
If there’s a heaven, I can’t find the stairway
I got Lamborghini dreams, eastside nightmares
Movin white…my ice is cool as the night air
We shoppers, you bloggers.
If money talks, you mumblers.
You try it on, then take it off,
Then post a pic on your tumblrs.
I made a new lane for myself and said, ‘Fuck it.’
Why Rage Against the Machine when you can just unplug it?
I’m puttin’ pressure on you kids like I’m a soccer mom.
$5 gas and poverty rates are rising much higher than your hourly rate.
So if you thinkin about quittin, you should probably wait,
Cause everybody has to do a fuckin job that they hate.
When I met you it was magic…
We polar opposites, but attracted like we was magnets.
I learned more from Black Star and Black Thought
Than I ever did from any class of any sort.
Nothin’ taken for granted, just learn from my mistakes.
My will too strong, my spirit’s somethin’ they can’t take.
Am I really just a narcissist,
Cause I wake up to a bowl of lobster bisque?
If you turn on TV, all you see’s a bunch of ‘what the fucks.’
‘Dude is dating so and so,’ blabberin about ‘such and such.’
And that ain’t Jersey Shore, homie that’s the news.
And these the same people supposedly tellin us the truth.
Limbaugh is a racist, Glenn Beck is a racist
Gaza Strip was gettin bombed, Obama didn’t say shit.
That’s why I ain’t vote for him, next one either,
I’m a part of the problem, my problem is I’m peaceful
And I believe in the people.
Niggas’ rap albums sound like love letters,
Pen in my hand, like: damn, fam, I could do much better.
True originator, innovator and creator,
Thinkin’ independent but I’m sayin’ something major.
Rappers on their sophomores…actin’ like they boss lords.
Fame’s such a funny thing for sure when niggas start believing all those encores.
Rockin’ gay apparel, them jeans will make you sterile,
I’m steady stockin ammo, cocking the double barrel.
It’s hard bein’ real in a world that’s a fallacy.
The colder the weather, the bigger the gun
Got to rock a lot of clothes if you tryina hide one
In June it’s .22’s, February it’s fifths
But all year round, it’s 616.
Every little fuck up, they blame it on Barack
Cause he just like Gucci, born in the trap.
Real dudes move in silence…like a mute drivin a new hybrid.
Let’s test the waters…
Love makes a splash, and you too thick to skinny-dip.
The sky is falling, the wind is calling,
Stand for something, or die in the morning.
As the wind made love to the seas,
The sand danced to the rhythm of the breeze.
Mr. Beck, Mr. O’Reilly, Mr. Limbaugh, Mr. Hannity,
How could you sell white America your insanity?
You tell them that they’re different and manipulate their vanity
When truthfully, financially, their life is a calamity.
Otherwise they wouldn’t be listening to the remedy,
So they is not as broke as the people that they don’t want be.
Convincin’ em that rich Republicans is what they gonna be,
So they act like Ronald Reagan, and like him they awful actors
Who look up to the rich, like dumb kids look up to rappers,
And that’s about as dumb as a donkey pullin a tractor.
Yes, that’s a Democrat diss, I’m a detractor,
So whether you vote right or vote left, it’s not a factor
When you ain’t got no care for your health…ay this America
They gon’ put your ass in debt…sumtin terrible
So you can disrespect presidents, and call them Socialists
But Palin and Pelosi both gon’ have you broke as shit.
The pressure is harsh and maybe I was destined to break,
Stay official when your brother’s a fake.
Sophisticated ignorance, write my curses in cursive.
You owe dough? You ain’t give up that cheese? Hey…
Sooner or later, you’ll Pay, Pal (no eBay).
Last time I failed is when I fell in love with distractions.
This is a robbery, boy, gimme them dollars.
We hit the lottery, boy, it’s in ya wallets!
Now that Bin Laden dead, can we get our civil liberties back?
That George Bush stole with the Patriot Act?
I’m like Demerol…
No disrespect to the Jacksons, but I kill mics.
If you are not performing fellatio for radio rotation,
What’s the ratio for radio play at your station?
If you’re not paying to play, the record is dead.
Puts a whole new spin on ‘Radio-head’