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I’m seeing problems with the game so I came with a solution,
Turn the lights out on your bling, that’ll be the conclusion,
Take it back to two tables and a microphone (microphone),
Tired of seeing chumps turning gangsta in the studio,
Sick of hearing fake lives, lived out on track,
If you hustlin’ homie, why you owe me a stack?
Why you begging me for air time? This isn’t charity,
I think we need some clarity, your rhymes are wack to me,
Seven years behind the board, I’ve produced for the best,
Conscious lyricists, who wear they soul on they chest,
Unprecedented to the bone, yea we take the right steps,
Turn this passion into business cause I got nothing else,
And when I got nothing left, I’ll have music and songs,
And I’ll sing ‘em everyday until the time that I’m gone,
Better hold tight to your bling cause it’s a thing of the past,
It’ll still be shining strong while you rot under grass, homie.
We rock, we roll, we’re taking control,
We’re so sick of pop music, we’re about to explode,
Our passion got a grip, it’s our soul that we spit,
It’s time to start a revolution with our mic and our lips.
I rock, I roll, I write with might,
This passion so strong it’s guiding my sight,
Blind to the norm I fight for what’s right,
While I stay to the left and avoid the slight,
Mistakes been made by our government,
Why do I feel smarter than the President?
We got a cartoon character in the White House,
Someone tell me how that’s right now?
The news is so skewed, what are the facts?
Fox spins more stories than we spin tracks,
In fact they got plot lines better than drama,
And I never heard ‘em say one good word about O’bama,
I’m just looking for the truth in a world full of lies,
This thing is more jacked than Days of Our Lives,
I’m at the end of my tunnel, still searching for the light,
I can’t say I changed the world but at least I tried.
Yo, yo, turn off that radio!
All I’m hearing are these fake tales and commercials,
Claim to be a criminal, only at the studio,
I guess that’s cool to whomever under inclement weather,
Can see your displacement is lower level,
Triple the bases,
Ten-thousand faces, pieces pasted over Hollywood lies,
Stick to the truth the way I see through these rhymes.