T.O.B.E

I'm a multi-faceted euphemized orator
I might switch up the flows now so I don't bore later
Someone pick up the mic and I might annihilater
Fam calling me home I gotta do my chores later
And Mom won't let me on the streets
And Pops saying I might get popped by the cops when I'm in my sleep
But it's discrete, on an empty stomach with nothing to feed
I feel like bullets they shooting at me give me something to eat
Or maybe I should just eat those
I mean it's it's pig after all man f the law, that's as far as it goes
What else do I think when I see one of my bros out on the floor
Getting cooked like his streets was the stove
But we know, we all know, Mom pops we all know
So Cal to New York, all the way to Chicago
27 amendments and there's still not one that I know
That's been protecting me or my people through low and high notes

Big pimpin and poppin and movin it on the D-low
Had a Homie who moved them for the low his name is Stee Low
Ridin through mini cities and bangin the way he living and showing em
He's the realest of all time who fuckin wit him
Cause he could pump a semi and pour up a little Remy
To loose up the cold feeling on the block cause it was chilling
But he was only chilling just kickin in it on the really, no really
No seriously, no playin, who fuckin wit him
Don't follow him
Track his every move stop him like hall monitor
Auditor sold his soul like the slaves to the odd father
No officer he didn't do nothin wrong
But the pigment of his skin had em in back of the car
And even though he wasn't guilty they still lock em in bars
And he in prison on some bullshit goin 10 years strong
But they just legalized weed sell it all day long
But they tell you black is the odd one out of the pond
And when he get out of the pen he don't have no life
He got struggling kids and a miserable wife
So he follow God he told him to follow the light
And it led him straight to the streets so he could fend for his life
So he back to selling dope on the corner of hell
With the fear in his stomach that he gon' end up and jail
But he cant get no job no no house so he gotta sell
Consequently led ass straight back to the cell

Consequently led his ass straight back to the cell
(Oh yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah, oh yeah yeah)

Consequently led his ass straight back to the cell
Monetary visions had em out there whippin the field so
Positively he had figures that could pay for the bail
But wander if he ever figured that he chosen to fail
So he could be an example of how our life is for sale
Under powers that may be to bigger evil than hell
Cause a devil that you know is red and ain't even real
But a devil in today is wicked wealthy and well
With filthy riches and a skin complexion crackin n' pale
And it's plenty of em' walkin the earth to no avail
And it been this way since the European sails
To the Motherland, will a brotha stand, to the governMANt? Kill em'
I'm another man, I deserve a chance, Kill em'
I can't even dance, I just wanna stand, livin' on American land that I had
In a village that yo fuckin people pillage and then paint me as a villain
Mothafuck a feelin! if i said it then i meant it
The definition of stress is being Black and then livin in institutional tenants and
Gettin cheddar to spend it in digits and for the children to grow up into da system and
Wishin that we can pay they tuition
If they get into them colleges and then into them riches

That's a Black life
What that shit worth?
I'm from the hood, na
But I'm in college, na
For the knowledge and the blue strip six figures
And For my key to the city big OG's
And for my (hey) Black Kings and my Black Queens

I'm a Bruin, na
I got young, ns
But even when I make it out here
I'mma struggle wit em
So for my college ns
Don't forget the picture
You ain't make it if yo brotha still up in the pin up

I'm a Bruin, na
I got young, ns
But even when I make it out here
I'mma struggle wit em
So for my college ns
Don't forget the picture
You ain't make it if yo brotha still up in the pin up

Still Black

Even if I'mma make it, I'm bringing all my shit back
Yeah I'm bringing all my shit back, back to the people who made me, not the 'shadies'
Yeah, cause I'm still black, even if I'mma make it I'm bringing all my shit back



Credits
Writer(s): Coleman Bryant
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link