We The People....

We don't believe you 'cause we the people

Are still here in the rear, ayo, we don't need you

You in the killing-off-good-young-nigga mood

When we get hungry we eat the same fucking food, the ramen noodle

Your simple voodoo is so maniacal, we're liable to pull a juju

The irony is that this bad bitch in my lap

She don't love me, she make money, she don't study that

She gon' give it to me, ain't gon' tell me run it back

She gon' take the brain to wetter plains, she spit on that

The doors have signs with, don't try to rhyme with

VH1 has a show that you can waste your time with

Guilty pleasures take the edge off reality

And for a salary I'd probably do that shit sporadically

The OG Gucci boots are smitten with iguanas

The IRS piranha see a nigga gettin' commas

Niggas in the hood living in a fishbowl

Gentrify here, now it's not a shit hole

Trendsetter, I know, my shit's cold

Ain't settling because I ain't so bold but ay

All you Black folks, you must go

All you Mexicans, you must go

And all you poor folks, you must go

Muslims and gays, boy, we hate your ways

So all you bad folks, you must go

The fog and the smog of news media that logs

False narratives of Gods that came up against the odds

We're not just nigga rappers with the bars

It's kismet that we're cosmic with the stars

You bastards overlooking street art

Better yet, street smarts but you keep us off the charts

So mother-fuck your numbers and your statisticians

Fuck y'all know about true competition?

That's like a AL pitcher on deck talking about he hittin'

The only one who's hitting are the ones that's currently spittin'

We got your missy smitten rubbing on her little kitten

Dreaming of a world that's equal for women with no division

Boy, I tell you that's vision

Like Tony Romo when he hitting Witten

The Tribe be the best in they division

Shaheed Muhammad cut it with precision

Who can come back years later, still hit the shot?

Still them tryna move we off the fucking block

Babylon, bloodclot

Two pon yuh headtop

All you Black folks, you must go

All you Mexicans, you must go

And all you poor folks, you must go

Muslims and gays, boy, we hate your ways

So all you bad folks, you must go