happy as hell when my cousin gave me his hand-me-downs This ain't no happy Shirley Temple talleistic crap This here is serious more Realistic than Radio
borders Repressed caps, we bring it to you as it happens The streets love my crew from music to rappin Street commander slash beat expander Here to fight
my lungs are mad elastic I'm dope on plastic like Flex I always keep it classic Expressions in the facial I'm more racial from carribean rhythms I hit
, it's much more complicated and absurd I'm searching desperately in paces finally trying to confirm that it's my own degree of failure that I'm fighting
said I'm like 'what happened' he said 'Look all the machines are dead' Conscience thinking that the ultimately read again No more government commercial, radio
better let it go, they better let it go Let me talk to 'em, check it out.. Uh, it seem like, the more I achieve the more they expect Cause it ain't nothin
the crack, and I make shit get wild Run it by, bust to start, to punch, others front Top drop Ceasar, it's more than a leisure Bitch every fuckin grain
mean you can change its name to Cage "Speaking Real Words" with Deck, you keep sweating But your label paid for more guests than a Greek wedding Copy, your state
eye) Hook Verse 3: Suck it easy Movin' On Up like George and Weezy You can't stop it love it or leave it alone Xzibit writtin' more pages then the state
re cynical The reciprocal respect that we have shown to them Is underestimated by the rages and executives So we fight with our words as our weapons Stating
let it go or pop first and dead your foe now it seems like the options are dropping there's no more talking smart bombs are locked in and more often than
't know shit about me But you don't see me running I'm from the ghetto, hoe, so I keep coming... With more nerves, more verbs, more cuss words To fuck
over again, and over again, and never again, and never again And we know when, When we call in, And nothings free, Sounds to me like, State run radio