| 1: Red Pill] |
| Now I was sitting in my car chain-smoking on my break |
| Windows open start to notice that I’m hopeless every day |
| Between the hard drinking |
| And the smoking, start thinking |
| 'Bout the folks who gotta do this to they graves |
| You can’t afford to walk up off the job |
| Cause you gotta get your money and your money is your god |
| So now at least seven days a week |
| You see me trading in my soul for somebody to keep |
| Whole parking lot smells like weed |
| Co-workers selling coke out they SUVs |
| When you can’t afford to live |
| Off the wages that they give |
| Can’t afford to feed your kids |
| Time to do some other shit |
| These situations got em faced with |
| Different combinations |
| Plus they lock 'em up in a safe, shit |
| We need to find a way out |
| Need that new escape route |
| We’re digging up our graves now. |
| So where you trying to go? Gotta dig em up (dig em up) |
| You moving too slow, better pick it up (pick it up) |
| They break us on down 'til we giving up |
| Put is in the motherfucking ground they don’t give a fuck |
| And when it’s us, they ain’t giving much (giving much) |
| And when it’s them, they don’t get enough (get enough) |
| Look 'em in they face middle finger up |
| They trying to put us in our graves |
| Yea, it’s like clockwork |
| Hustle makes the world go round |
| Play your role and everybody on your block work |
| Problem is, you low on the food chain |
| Cash rules everything around me… including the Wu-Tang |
| Life takes your breath away |
| Earn a living for what? |
| So you come up, die, and give the rest away? |
| The system plays you, leaves you in a mound of debt |
| And won’t let up 'til you’re pronounced dead |
| If I get laid off |
| May just have to let crime pay off |
| Or Bernie Madoff will try and burn you like Adolf |
| Money is the root of evil |
| It’s got people shooting people |
| For food on the table, such is human behavior |
| Before I die, wanna live |
| Not work for the rich |
| Put clothes on his kid’s back while mine pinch the pennies? |
| No sir. |
| I would rather starve than |
| Give him the shirt off my back like I’m Tarzan |
| So where you trying to go? Gotta dig em up (dig em up) |
| You moving too slow, better pick it up (pick it up) |
| They break us on down 'til we giving up |
| Put is in the motherfucking ground they don’t give a fuck |
| And when it’s us, they ain’t giving much (giving much) |
| And when it’s them, they don’t get enough (get enough) |
| Look 'em in they face middle finger up |
| They trying to put us in our graves |