|
|
SINGER: Public Enemy
SONG:Crayola
Stax of wax 55 high fulla tracks New cats jackin beats from way back Pay for play only way to get them platinum plaques Clear the racks jobbers slobbin you for tax Robbery a&r snobbery Shit is killin me softly wit that same damn song Makin folk dumber in the summer A bummer when they shot willie in that hummer Keep it simple stupid means numbers Payola dough white owned black radio Runnin on empty help go the desperado So i bomb the toms and negros who pray to cash flow No info to the masses as they shake their asses No clue but i canıt get my shit up in to you
Crayola with that same same ol shit Crayola with that played playa shit Crayola with that kid crayon shit Crayola with them ol spray on hits
All fucked up ways must fall Now the industry canıt stop me A vendetta to make the whole game better They get the cheddar All i got is a fuckin letter What i owe? what am i Another number and a ho, they donıt know Time to see em go like dominoes About time cause they endorsed the crime up in the rhyme Got these new souls controlled goin outta their mind Missed what i said cause they donıt even own their own heads Go one go all i forgot they made robots outta some of yall Today all fucked up ways must fall Today is up against the wall Misled in the head fucked by quiet storms and love songs Noddin heads too hollow forgotten tomorrow Swallowing all that shit thatıs shallow Give the baby anything the baby wants But thatıs how them bastards get us up in them caskets Try to get me where they want me Before some of them jump me Go tell em iım a start a rebellion Educate the felons easy on yeah Tell em what the fuck am i yellin No tellin you got them artists and artificials If it ainıt right i donıt give a damn if itıs sellin Recruits chasin and racin for that loot Usin usual drum loops so i salute my troops I donıt socialize or mingle, fuck the promotionals And you know what and that g-damn single And the marketing team for that matter
It donıt matter Djıs gettin dimes for time on a platter I ainıt gotta be high to jack so i hijack Fm - radio - eff em turn it around muthafucka Gods to niggas, queens to bitches Race against time see em all runnin for the riches Everything had its chance last dance Some things change like them weather forecasts Ha funny how shit donıt last
Crayola with that same same ol shit Crayola with that played playa shit Crayola with that kid crayon shit Crayola with them ol spray on hits
| |
|