Somebody talked shit to me in LA, and never lived Cuz brown rolls deeper than red or blue ever did I got bullets that`ll rip through your ribs More painful than watchin R. Kelly piss on your kids Here`s the ultimatum motha fucka give me that ass cap Or give America Biggie and Tupac flashbacks Some niggas don`t think the underground is grimy and dirty Till they find your body on a fuckin highway in Jersey I fire rockets at generic topics Your lyrics don`t hold weight, like two-dimensional objects Cuz jail culture didn`t give you that fitted hat To memorize a ghostwritten shit verse and spit it back I won`t let your wack rhymes redefine lyricism For a whole generation with their fathers in prison You live inside the image of an era that`s gone Like government officials tryin to justify Vietnam I leave niggas traumatized, like they mamma died And they was responsible for the driveby homicide And i don`t market revolution, I live it What you think cuz you fake, everyone else is a gimmick Jealous bickering, industry slaves, the nerve of you Like a child prostitute, born into a life of servitude Until we murder you, making the red carpet burgundy The psycho realm in the streets, where I prefer to be
[hook] Hollywood driveby, motha fuckin murder fest Weed clouds in the air, that cause turbulence Revolución motha fucka you heard of it I light the spliff with the flag, while I`m burnin it Hollywood driveby sprayin the Kookarachas War with the system like the streets of Wahata Yeah, Revolución motha fucka you scared of it Well it`s comin to the industry now, so be prepared for it
I`m from the city of fallen stars The home of (bangin horns?) Waitin for them at the (radio?) city hall to snatch them off their fuckin cars Expose them for what they are narcs, dicks, (think their formans?) Feeding us horse shit Blaze up all of them They say hip hop doesn`t exist rappers talkin hard, dressed up like punk rock kids Pumped up by some corporate endorsement Their corpses are voiceless No one hears you homie, your lil fame is over Were sitting in a homing foreclosure Like bankers, cuz you owe us the mortgage For exploiting the lifestyle That many died (jugglin?) for storage Leavin most of us homeless Homies, ready your focus What we built and got em all afraid gimme the (?) I`ll be honored to ignite the flame That`ll burn down the game Was fame keepin, a movement A silent war motha fucka you sleepin
[hook]
WAKE UP! WAKE UP!! WAKE UP!!!
"The corporation that controls the 3rd world, in the next century, controls the globe. Think of that. One world economy, one corporation under God, one moral spiritual economic unity."
"You know back in the day, some of yall, used to shout out Allah`s name like he was hosting your mix tape. Then after 9/11 you got scared and shut the fuck up. Didn`t talk about the demonization of a culture, immigrants, nothin. Now you show up, talk about we takin it too far. Die slow. MOTHA FUCKA!!!
Yeah, 100% independent, I`m the fuckin boss I sold 80,000 off (?) The hood is not stupid, we know the mathematics I made double what I would goin gold on Atlantic Cuz EMI, Sony BMG, in the scope would never sign a rapper, with the white house in the scope They push pop music like a religion Anorexic celebrity driven, financial fantasy fiction Contradiction, cuz the life you was given Resembles life in prison, fed time with men well Noriega, The real Noriega Who did America a hundred favors, With Contras that shy on the CIA Movin Escobar`s cult through the MIA This is the 3rd World speakin, Through a dead man walkin And everybody talkin bout the South taken over It`s true motha fucka but it`s comin over the border Fuck your chain, my people will kill you for water Fuck fans nigga, I got soldier supporters That`ll cut your throat,if you strap with a tape recorder That`s right motha fucka,welcome to the new world order Where the truth is always censored by corporate reporters The government runs the drug politics on the corner That`s why I never stress rappers and their employers I put a bag over his fuckin head and torture your lawyer Cuz it`s too simple too shoot y`all (days?) in the roof of your mouth and electrocute ya I`ll root ya out with the Ruger, the German Luger, U-boat, And the troops in the scuba Nigga, you can`t overthrow me like the island of Cuba Niggas will neva find your body, like that bitch in Aruba And I`ll maneuver through the state, deparTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
