We The People.... Songtext / Lyric

We don't believe you 'cause we the people

I'll still be in the rear, yo, we don't need you

You ain't a killer nor good, young nigga, move

When we get hungry we eat the same fucking food

The ramen noodle

Your simple voodoo is so maniacal, reliable to pull a juju

The irony is that this bad bitch in my lap

She don't love me, she make bunnies, she gon' study that

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

She gon' take the brain or weather plain, she spit on that

The doors are signed with, don't try to rhyme with

VH1 has a show that you could 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 wasn't spittin' 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

I ain't said it yet because I ain't so bold, hey yo



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 in the smog of new media that logs

False narratives of guys that came up against the odds

We not just nigga rappers with the bars

It's kismet that we cosmic with the stars



You bastards overlooking street art

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

So motherfuck your numbers and your statisticians

Fuck you know about true competition?

Just like the [?] picture that talking about he hittin'

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

We got your missie smitten rubbing on a 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 y'all tryna move me off the fucking block

Babylon, bloodclot

Two pon yo headtop, yeah



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