Texty: Phat Chance. Inkstains.

Bring that beat in sound the drums,
The single finger in the air amidst a thousand thumbs,
Hitchhiking out of here on the back of a truck;
My message is the snare drowning out the pounding toms;

Ia??m not the same shit youa??ve heard before;
My heart is the beat on the first and fourth;
Hip-hop isna??t dead this is urban law;
Wea??ll drag that horse to water and make it thirst for more;

Turn that trickle to a stream and that stream to a geyser;
Our dreams are the fire thata??ll burst it forth
Break dance on the soap box the curb has formed;
Music is our white flag on an earth at war;

Discontent is the anvil where these words are formed;
The fuel on the fire that you burnt this for;
This song goes out to those whoa??ve heard the call;
If the law serves the rich then wea??ll serve the poor;

Every face in this crowd has an ear for the sound,
And an eye on our way, way, down;
Every fist in the air, waving it like they cared;
That our people are weighed, weighed down;

Everybody at the stage, who can catch my gaze,
Just to tell me that theya??re weighed, weighed down;
By every minute of the day that we day that we waste;
Not changing our ways,

Drop that beat out, settle the groove in;
Ia??ll do what I gotta do to get you to tune in;
My inner childa??s off cutting sick on the mood swings;
But playground tactics are the reason I do this;

Aint it sick that we hide from the truth,
Till advice on a loop makes us look past the movie screen;
All these films about aliens and space ships,
Might amaze kids, who forget that their the futurea??s bleak;

Alright, yeah wea??re kind of on a losing streak,

But wona??t forget a victory for a few defeats; at least;
Racism isna??t even what it used to be;
The man can barely even draw that gap between blue and green;

And though I do complain we arena??t truly free;
We are still who we choose to be;
We are still when we move to a beat;
So when they ask why, Ia??ll tell them I choose to speak;

Every face in this crowd has an ear for the sound,
And an eye on our way, way, down;
Every fist in the air, waving it like they cared;
That our people are weighed, weighed down;

Everybody at the stage who can catch my gaze,
Just to tell me that theya??re weighed, weighed down;
By every minute of the day that we day that we waste;
Not changing our ways,

For every head I offend with the lyrics I take down;
Or women Ia??ve loved who might break down;
For all my family and friends, I hope we stand to the end;
I cana??t edit a word ita??s too late now;

For every face in the crowd, that I make proud,
Cause wea??ve all taken hits but wona??t stay down;
I might never say Ia??m great, but Ia??m grateful,
Cause I dona??t believe that a king would ever wear that fake crown;

Every face in this crowd has an ear for the sound,
And an eye on our way, way, down;
Every fist in the air, waving it like they cared;
That our people are weighed, weighed down;

Everybody at the stage, who can catch my gaze,
Just to tell me that theya??re weighed, weighed down;
By every minute of the day that we day that we waste;
Not changing our ways,