Lyrics:
to the grind, Friday do it all again
I'm from America
Home of the red white and blue, blue collar getting bread like you
Yeah boy I'm from America
Home
with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by
Miner, seamstress, ditchdigger, all of them.
I am the "etceteras" and the "and so forths" that do the work.
Now hold on here, what are you trying to give
Work work work work work
Gotta do it just to get by
Work work work work work
And we don't even know why
Work work work work work
Gotta do it just
are here because of the great inflation
That was caused by American companies in Latin America
Aside from that, many are seeking a life away from
the flag, insult the soldiers that we're buryin'
I'm tired of the pissin' and complainin'
Why you livin' in America if all you do is hate it?
You think
America is being an
Honest black man in America
Sorry for the interruption, please continue
Sir Duckworth or Kung-Fu Kenny?
Got juice, got work, got
it here
Do you have anything you'd like to say to America?
I'd just like to say at this point that
I' m 24 hour, 7 day a week, 365 day a year American)
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
But I mean I like it here
Do you have anything you'd like to say to America?
I'd just like to say at this point that
I' m 24 hour, 7
benefits
Already surrounded by this mad city
The caterpillar goes to work on the cocoon
Which institutionalizes him
He can no longer see past his own
But Frank Ocean is great too
But you know who the greates of all of us?
Who do ya'll think? Nope
Kid motherfucking Cudi radio, fuck you!
Oh yeah I'm
was doing for years
Obama couldn’t make America great because he
Couldn’t be him to be who
He was black men have been slaves
Obama wasn’t allowed to do
We got a lot of work to do
We got a lot of work to do
We got a lot of work to do
We got a lot of work work work
We got a lot of work to do
We got
The Waltz, of America; is simple, though it seems
The Waltz, of America; is hidden in our dreams
The Waltz, is a lifetime; of hard work with much
from the east side of America
Where we desensitize by hysteria
And we can pick sides, but this is us, this is us, this is
I live on the west side
first
Cause without Him, it‘ll never work
America
Oh, America
America
Will we ever be brave?
America
Oh, America
America
Will we ever be brave?
America
America
Miss America black Miss America
Miss America black Miss America
And if the government got along
I'd probably been...
By the end of the song
This isn't gonna work, artistically or anything like that
I mean, who wants to listen to shit like this
Is he still standing in the Gate
Y-yes, Master
Do
taste, know what to say anytime any place
She makes it look too easy look at how
She breezing on by with that little tight gown for the evening
Got a body
could do
What my fat owner can't
Ah, future farmers of America
Future farmers of America
Future farmers of America
Ah
I'm always watching
How much I was brainwashed by America's lies
America's lies
America's lies
America's lies
America's lies
America's lies
When you get to heaven, lies
Delivery me from my enemies, oh God
Defend me from those that rise up against me
Deliver me from the work of inequity
And save me, from the Bloody
ease
Who’s the true artist and who works the hardest
Who moves in culture and who’s not a vulture
Go on and pass by, take a good look eye
Will change
the city looking
Back, you can actually
Pinpoint this transition, the very moment
Meek realized he could do this
Forever: he marked it
By cutting his hair
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