Tell me can you identify the black lies in the straight white crack lines
Sniffed up through you finger-tips
And stored inside of your memory of vocals/
Identify the cooperated drug dealers/ using/ drug lyrics/ to sell their/ Drug Music
The cooperation Divide’s 16 bars into/ 3 simple sections
Drugs. Sex. And Money
4 kids put together 4 dollars / Multiply there 4 by 4
To hear that/ 16 bar poison poem/
Divide yo childs mind into 3 complex sections /
Drugs.Sex and money
Flip verses only to poison the young heads
By explaining how they/ smoke acres of weed/ flaunt they bling
Hold they dicks and/ and rap on how they/
Load they nines and/
Throw some d’s on that bitch/
And/ by age nine../ ma brotha knew every single line
You see. Big time cooperation’s realized/that/with time/ their code name for crack/
Would be identified/ and harmonized off the lips/ of/ every child under the age of 12
Hypnotized my generation into thinking/
In order to be the shit/ you gotta be a pimp/to that/ white girl. white girl.
Man/ Believe`n in every word they favorite rapper told them so
My future black business men trade in there books for coke/
Trade in their skateboards for crome/
Thinking education can wait for so long/cause
TRUTH IS.
Selling coke/ keeps the lights on/
And /Learning something real is much harder then becoming addicted to something new/
Addiction gives the weak something to do/
…when there bored./
and you see/
Music/ is much more addicting then weed/
so when parents try to find the reasons why they children is so demonized/
they doing drugs and haven sex/ buying nines and nothing less/
they cant find the reason why/ cause its stored in their childs mind/
thats where the demonized lyrics of music lives/
no telling what kindda lyrics they is./
you see you got rap telling kids to slap they bitches/
and rock telling you to slap yo mama /
and all that together drugs of the drama/
everyone is tryna grow up to be dope.!/
but the dope boys aint on the corner no mo
they in the studio/laying down a dope 16 bar study guide /
JUST to Guide/ ma niggahs behind bars/
whitney said crack is wack so they cant go back to the block/
when theres no one there to cop the rocks
Damn RAp music!
took ma poets and transformed them into rappers
Trade they souls for G's
Signed ma niggahs to Death Row and forgot all about youth speaks
Man./ ma nigga's forgot about the true hip hop days/
forgot about they flow sessions in the pissy project hallways/
Big chains/to determine just how big they pride was/
silence creeps in them brown-stone hallways where god sent his blessings down in lyrical sound waves./
sending messages to teach us thru our fingers/
but now/ that hallway/ has been transformed into the white mans buisness office/
where he calls up ma niggahs and give them bogus rap offers./
and every once in a while that white man can still smell the piss that lingers./
can still hear the vocals written from out fingers/
hip-hop is not dead.
rap music was just born/
cause wen niggahs go from not haven to getting/
its a money thanksgiving./
cause as soon as ma nigga make it/
they get themselves a limo complete with a white driver/
just to drive them down the wrong direction of false dreams/
and/ liven the life of exstacy and paper chasen/money makin.booty shaking/
white girls on the side of there main squeeze/
love to hear the crowd scream/they name
and
all because once apon a time they favorite rapper told them so./
and when that limo takes them to they final destination
they see they at the end/and cant think of one thang postive to say
when/ its there time to say goodbye/
after spitting 16 bars of coke to young kids/
and/
rapping about they 16 bars of straight white crack lines.
then thats when ma niggas can finally identify
ever last Black Lie they've cried.
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