Inner-City Blues

by Brofucius


Iím gettiní militant totally bent out of shape
About the state of hate and now, itís time to drape
A flag over the casket and start to get drastic
The microphoneís readyÖso, yo, Iíve gotta have it
To express myself in the way that I choose
Iím not gonna speak soft or sing the blues
So if a profane word slips from my lips
Iím not gonna change it Ďcause I meant that shit
A verse with a curse is considered as worse
As an idea they fear was made to coerce
A new way of thinking, a change of attitude
I advocate speaking out and if Iím rude...Iím rude
Limit what I say...surely, you jest
ĎCause not a damn thing I say is slanderous
What you are suggesting is censorship
But my lyrics arenít written for you to try and edit
Iím my own writer and my own editor
So stop stalking my words like youíre the predator
ĎCause no matter how you see it or how much you riff
You canít stop the gift coming from my lips
Itís the kind of flavor the black youth savors
ĎThough some redneck-types will call it nigga behavior
ĎCause itís from a black man and they donít understand
That Iíve witnessed with bitterness the shit in this land
And itís not just here...itís here and there
But a lot of us are happy if they give us welfare
See, we want to make money, but we donít want to work
And if we see someone else getting paid, we get irked
But thatís how the system wanted it to be
So, yo, thatís why these things are just like you see
You play to win but so many lose
Itís just a simple case of the inner-city blues

See, the inner-city blues made Marvin wanna holler
And today is much worse if youíre trying to make a dollar
Crime has trickled down from the white collars
And the brothers hang out like pharmaceutical scholars
And the people bum rush Ďem like they have prescriptions
They donít have ailments...theyíve just got addictions
I hear some say itís getting better, but thatís just fiction
ĎCause drugs are being sold like there ainít no restrictions
And on the streets, itís survival of the fittest
And we smoke anyone if the sucker ainít with us
No, theyíre not making money out our block
Weíll smoke all those busters and take their rocks
No, I didnít fight in Mr. Charlieís war
I fight in my hood Ďcause thatís what I get paid for
Protecting my own but Iím not alone
Me and my boys are b-b-b-bad to the bone
Well, itís another day, another sunrise
Well, ainít a black manís life one big surprise
 
See, I am between fifteen and thirty-five
The few, the proud, a brother still alive
I keep hope without dope and Iím doing well
I donít bug off drugs and ainít in drug retail
I donít need to sell crack to even do well
Or suck on a pipe so my body gets frail
And thin and shriveled up like a raisin in the sun
My money up in smokeÖhell no, I ainít the one
I play to win, but I could still lose
Itís just a simple case of the inner-city blues

Oh well, Iíve dwelled in poverty
All of my life I was told what I would be
Some gangbanger, hoodlum or robber
ĎCause I lacked discipline and my mother never bother
To teach me or reach me...she never even beat me
She said, "Youíre just like your father and you ainít never gonna be...
Shit or amount to nothingÖ"
So why ask why, me and my pistol started mugginí
Straight jackiní anyone I thought had a dime
See, I had to liveÖso, I lived by the crime
But jackiní wasnít paying me nearly enough
So, I stole me a key and started cooking rocks up
I roamed the streets all day and night
My pockets got fat Ďcause my shit was hyped
So, I kept on investing back in my product
In just a few months, I was clockiní big bucks
I was known as the neighborhoodís pharmacist
And started franchising with a big money grip
Dough just flowiní from a world of fiends
I could retire right now and Iím only eighteen
See, to me the end satisfies the means
And this is what it comes to when denied to dream
But the neighborhood praises me like Iím the Messiah
ĎCause I donít front like those political liars
Yeah, itís taking a risk, but itís the one Iíll take
ĎCause I know thereís a whole lot of money at stake
Iím playing to win, but I could still lose
Itís just a simple case of the inner-city blues


Inner-City Blues by Brofucius

© Copyright 2002. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.



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