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Killer Mike (Run the Jewels) • “Oh Mama” • RTJ3 • 2016

I smoke the holy herb, get high as hell and meditate.
Swear to God, shit’s so good…fat boy’ll levitate.
God’s gift to man, how the fuck they try to legislate?
Mom’s, she recovering, tell me I overmedicate.
I tell her, “Holy fuck, Jesus Christ, give me a fucking break!”
She said, “Don’t curse your mama, goddammit,” and threw a dinner plate.

Killer Mike, “Oh Mama,” from Run the Jewel’s RTJ3, 2016

Killer Mike • “Reagan” • 2012

Thanks to Reaganomics, prisons turned to profits,
Cause free labor is the cornerstone of US economics.
Slavery was abolished, unless you are in prison,
You think I am bullshitting? Then read the 13th Amendment.
Involuntary servitude and slavery it prohibits,
That’s why they giving drug offenders time in double digits.

Killer Mike, “Reagan,” R.A.P. Music, 2012

Killer Mike (Run the Jewels) • “Nobody Speak” • 2016

I rob Charlie Brown, Peppermint Patty, Linus and Lucy,
Put coke in the doobie, roll woolies to smoke with Snoopy.
I still remain that dick grabbin’ slacker that spit a loogie,
Cause the toter of the toolie’ll murder you friggin’ Moolie.

– Killer Mike, “Nobody Speak,” from DJ Shadow’s The Mountain Will Fall, 2016

You see y’all got it all wrong like women in tuxedos,
And comin’ up shorter than five Danny DeVitos.
I’m on a cool ranch…get laid more than Fritos,
With five strippers, four wives and three amigos.
I go scuba divin’ in Bays at Montego,
I find gold links and snatch ‘em like I’m Deebo.
But I’m the light-skindeded version of Mandingo,
I’ve seen more Beatles and Jagged Edges than Ringo,
I used to run numbers in line they called me ‘Bingo.’
Ludacris, “Coming 2 America,” Word of Mouf, 2001. More from Luda…
They say ‘Love Jesus’ and ‘Listen to your pastor,’
But Jesus told the truth, and the pastor’s a lying bastard.
All he talk about is economic elevation,
And all Jesus talked about was soul salvation.
Jesus sat with the sick and he walked with the poor,
If He gave blood for our sins, why we giving more?
I got some Gangster Disciples at church with me tonight,
With five dollars worth of gas, and a matchbook to light.
Killer Mike, “Burn,” Pl3dge, 2011. More serious lyrics from Mike Bigga >
You download it for free, we get charged back for it.
I know you’re saying, “They won’t know, they won’t miss it,
Besides, I ain’t a thief, they won’t pay me a visit.”
So, if I come to your job, take your corn on the cob,
And take a couple kernels off it, that would be alright with you?
Andre 3000, “What a Job,” from Devin the Dude’s Waitin to Inhale, 2007
I got a girl and she treat me fine,
But the homies all think that I’m losin’ my mind.
I’m trippin’ and I know it cause I’m all nerved up,
Cause everytime I go to sleep, I see this big ol’ butt.
See, I ain’t never gave no chick 4 stars,
But she treat me so good that she be drivin my car.
And every day it get better, I can’t lie,
Went to the house and she made me some hot potato pie.
All my friends be sayin, “She ain’t nothin but a scrub!”
But she make me feel high like I’m hooked on drugs.
So I give her what she need, and what’s done is done,
But I’m a special kind of fool but ayo, it don’t bother me none.
I can’t help myself, I know that I’m trippin’,
But she got it goin’ on like Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Pimp C, “Use Me Up,” from UGK’s Too Hard to Swallow, 1992
I bet you never heard of a playa with no game,
Told the truth to get what I want, but shot it with no shame.
Take this music dead serious while others entertain.
I see they makin’ they paper so I guess I can’t complain…or can I?
I feel they disrespectin’ the whole thang.
Them hooks like sellin’ dope to black folks,
And I choke when the food they serve ain’t tastin’ right,
My stomach can’t digest it even when I bless it…
Andre 3000, “13th Floor/Growing Old,” from Outkast’s ATLiens, 1996
We brag on havin’ bread, but none of us are bakers.
We all talk havin’ greens, but none of us on acres.
If none of us on acres, and none of us grow wheat,
Then who will feed our people when our people need to eat?
So it seems our people starve from lack of understandin’
Cause all we seem to give them is some ballin’ and some dancin’,
And some talkin’ about our car and imaginary mansions.
We should be indicted for bullshit we inciting,
Havin’ children deaf and pretendin’ it’s exciting.
We are advertisements for agony and pain.
We exploit the youth. We tell them to join a gang.
We tell them dope stories, introduced them to the game.
Killer Mike, “Reagan,” R.A.P. Music, 2012