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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Vic Mensa
Lyrics:
[Part I: bethlehem]
[Intro] Yeah Man, this nigga Thelonious always give me something I can breathe on Bleed on Shout to Johnny Smalls
[Verse] Uh, this is ground zero, I'm rising from the ashes, uh The first step on the road to Damascus I redefined my narrative I'm Frederick Douglas, uh I can't harbor hate, although they never loved us, nah I tell my guys I miss 'em, they in dire conditions Tryna survive in prison, praying they don't die in Dixon Bro said send him some pics of me with Australian bitches Back in America they treat us like we Aborigines Original man, they tri5d to white out our history As if the first universiti5s wasn't Egyptian Lauryn Hill said it best it's just miseducation And Section Eight is just modern day segregation I'm drinking from the whites only fountain of youth They heard the cage bird sing, so I bought me a coupe Pardon the roof, it gets shy in the summertime When momma said, 'Be home before ten I had my number nine Thugging outside with them hooligans, ditching school again The 'raq was my holy land, like the tribe of Judah and them Persecuted at home, like Philistines in Hebron is I'm staring past the wall, from a rooftop in Bethlehem Remind me of project halls in lawless gardens It's the same if you go back to Africa, Marcus Garvey A people without knowledge is a tree without roots I'm a walking contradiction, I'm in Saint Laurent boots Mobbin', standing on the Westside with Chairman Fred Hampton 'Bout to catch a red eye, back to my bed in a mansion, yeah When did hip-hop turn into hip propaganda? (Uh) They killed Dr. Sebi, they make mills off of cancer The business is keep us addicted to pharmacists So we too preoccupied with prescriptions for politics Give 'em mass incarceration, leave the children fatherless I'm the voice of a generation, we won't be silenced, uh
[Part ii: sc freestyle]
[Intro] It's the business my love
[Verse] I'm from the home of the, Black Stone Rangers Where they invented gang banging And they twist up they fingas, like they opps in a backwood From where Gotti Moe was hanging, he got killed there Pulled him out his wheelchair, photographed him with his pants around his ankles Where they, indoctrinate young, hit the freight trains for guns Drive 'em up from Indiana, or Tennessee with the Bamas And blue police camera's sit high, like gargoyles Crack your head to the yolk for thinking you hard boiled Better, simmer it down, take that shit downtown Six flags on Halloween, it's fright night in Terror Town And them killers in killer ward, catch you in River North If you whippin' foreign, they pull your ass out the doors of your Aventador Eat Flaming Hots for breakfast, 'cause that's all they can afford Forty-four percent of Inglewood, beneath the poverty line from where they, living poor And they can't make up their mind Who's the best of all time Larry Hoover or Jeff Ford? Who drop dimes, load Glock 9's and John Doe 'em? Where they changed the name from the Chi to the 'Raq to Drillinois And the winter is brutal, put the toaster to your strudel, make you doo-doo You on bed rest, living off ramen noodles Where the North pole is bundled, and it's cobras out in Humbolt You could get booked like Mowgli by the Moes out in the jungle And the Lord's in holy city, He'll make you do the holy ghost Shake you down like Diddy, if they suspect that you holding dope You can't play around in K-Town It's get down or lay down, buss downs, grey hounds Throwing L's in L-Town, bumping dj L sounds Active shooters in the city, this is not a drill, trust me it's real now Came for a photo opp to show your opps You wanted to visit old block, ended up end having to stay 'cause you got shot, nigga LyricsFreak
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