Man I scene obscene times before this hip-hop game, came
Like the cops that check me, left me in mate
To a system where gingerbread men are to overbake
Put to work in the dirt for a buck and quarter a day
Choppin down trees for the next prison that`s made
And separate us from slaves with thirty dollars and pay
The jailer got a tailor and an F-250
Standing on dirty acres feeling God damn filthy
Natti stands for his, suckas crawl for others
Understand the biz or suffocate under covers
Cuz somebody gets paid, our lemons are simply beginnings
My sweat been the sugar in some cracka`s lemonade
Got my brother in Baghdad, hands clenching grenades
While we hustle like house niggas, trying to buy chains
Back asswards, for trying to buy change
I`ma walk through the valley and rally through my pains nigga
(verse 2 - Deacon The Villain)
Ima wear your confederate flag and be a rebel
Burn this witch down, Gretel with heavy metal
Cancelled, for pissin on our hopes and esteem
Since I`s a youth scene it scenic like they broke in my dreams
Weave it together; I need all the yarn you can swing
From filthy farms we`ve learned ‘bout types of alarms we can ring
Are you gon listen? It seems the only sense you got is vision?
And since we`ve shed our sense now the census steady slippin
And since we stopped our youth from praying senselessness is livid
And the rich don`t really give a fuck cause they don`t gotta live it
I see hard living everyday, you never pay to visit
To ya`ll the hoods a museum, in truth we just exhibits
In truth we just some digits, a means to and end
By any means from our KY we gon win
Since ya`ll don`t wanna listen, I ought to use fists in place of my pen
So then maybe all this shit`ll sink in
(outro - gospel)
Dwelled in the valley of death
Fell in the pits it holds
Been to the mountain top
Where streets are paved in gold
And I know
Only God can put out our flame
Until then we gon face our pain
And I know
Only God can put our out flame
Until then we gon stake our claim
On these dirty acres