I like to write rap songs...
Father jobless, sitting in his house hostage//
By the government who never gave him a chance to accomplish//
All the dreams that he dreamt about as a kid//
Now he's looking for a dollar in exchange of a bid//
Police they fib, and cross roads with the devil//
So many lost souls holding their faith by the metal//
That they tuck, while stuck, in a whirlwind//
Who is anyone to judge any of us by our sins//
Juice and gin, forget the struggle that we're living//
What a joke, bag of weed and you're imprisoned//
Money making operation takes another life//
Leaving behind a son and an honorably wife//
Time to march on, and demand it gets corrected//
And let the voice of the people not become separate//
Unity amongst all while we strive for the purpose//
Biting away chunks while they hear all our curses//
Mother jobless, forced to work the clientele topless//
Feeding her family fights the feeling of being nauseous//
How to stop this, process, of the job losses//
Fuck a cautious, point the finger at the bosses//
Million dollar men in a mighty power position//
Million reasons why you need to shut the fuck up and listen//
Revolt with a colt 45 in my hand//
And they tell me that I’m so not American//
You want guns, we got guns, plenty guns//
And a million pissed off people ready to spray some//
Gave us choice in the freedom of voice so now we're speaking//
Afraid of what we have to say so now you're bleeping//
(Bleep------------------------) and that’s the truth//
You have never felt the struggle sitting in your pretty suit//
And yet you have the full and unregulated control//
While millions pray and hope for a better day to unfold//
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