Lyrics:
do you
American systems don't work
Don't let them fool you
So control your number, hold
And lock your weed date
I set records straight, get the papes
Don't worry you'll probably just get probation
So I'm asking every man in the nation
Are you really a man
If your truck can't survive a tactical nuclear
posh life
E wan posh life
American gyal
American gyal
E wan soft life
E wan soft life
So I stay guided by the most high
I stay guided by the most high
So
trump is the sequel so
Shit, I'll say what Kanye won't
Wake the fuck up and give the people what they want
Man it's all love but the youth is confused
you tonight
Not lookin' for no man
Come this party and I'm not tryin' to stop
Ho, beggars don't be wylin', make 'em shut down the
Spot, oh, no
So
White man in America
Is said to be the luckiest man on Earth
But who can say how many turn aside?
Who can say what causes suicide?
Freedom is not
My name is Jackson Jameson, a coal miner by trade
From a part of Pennsylvania even Jesus couldn't save
With towns named after Indian chiefs
it's a mystery
Really should be brothers united against the industry
The Africans diaspora scatter at shattered history
The game missing me, rap is so
so repetitive
Although I ain't your blood or your cuz, it's all relative
I got a gang of rhymes and Tones' beats is banging
We moving through
on the trigga
I was born a regular man of the Earth
With a curse to walk like a soldier since birth
My exterior is shaded in by my melanin
Stereotype of my
Hade, Hade, Hade, Hade
America, Babylon the Great
My fellow Americans
American, racist and wicked and they been scandaling
And arrogant, took over
Bongo by the way
Oh, I
You keep that to yourself
Oh, I
You don't trust no one else
Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Met her backstage
that it'd
Be a friendly gesture for us to take the garbage down to the city dump
So we took the half-a-ton of garbage, put it in the back of a red
the pure ways
Will have no resentment in our case
Man is now defined by political hands
Hands
Hands
Hands
Hands
Hands
Hands
Hands
The hands are gripping you
(One, two, one, two, three)
Pouring snow and six degrees, American cowboy on his knees
Speak your lies so easily, like you had done so recently
You
on my dope cut off one of
your fingers send it in the mail you'll have my money by twelve send
the other four the game designed by me so I can't lose I
'cause I know that I am, man
I'm goin' down in history like American Bandstand
I stay fresh to def like the neighborhood dope man
I stay on the top
and never complain
Boots all muddy by the end of the shift, carry on the American way
One time for the blue collar boys, gettin up before dawn and never
I flow like Nile's waters
African-American rebel of authority
Majority, while I'm so-called minority
Sometimes they ask me, "Why are you the rebel?
Is
Every writers unite who's on fire
(Kool Keith) i'm Batman on steroids
Rappers come with double A batteries
I'm a grown man who play with toys
There was a man so cold
No life was in his eyes
He had a look so hard
I never see him smile
There's a man with no life in his eyes
One of the most
If the culture was not Nigerian
And its not Nigeria
You know so
The American culture
The British culture
Is different from the Nigerian culture
First
We got scars from things survived
We go through struggle and it's called life
American hustles piece of mine
World gone crazy man no kind
How did we
so young. Words from a black father: How much can a young man bear? How much until you're not a man?
These lyrics draw from The New Jim Crow by
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