so enticing surmise the enterprising
surprise your compromising the vice of our demises
with your devices of fame fronting our eyelids
in vain they patronizing the same system that blights them
and now they grow up stuck inside a trap
persisting using slave terms as brothers in raps
and I can't say vagina but I can say bitch
we've been brainwashed this mantra through radio hits

I don't got much money but my baby love she don't care
and if you read between the lines my middle fucking finger is there
and ill sing a melody out of key and out of tune- too soon
and if you got a lot of problems, then the now is opportune- the bloom

Spitting images smitten with their existences
sink or swim with your differences
carbon copy renditions here
ubiquitous flows parochial roles
ironic I know, the way I expose their obstinate prose
resisting the pattern of their dismay
capital acquisition with marketing to display
shackling at Achilles conspiracy at the theory
bombarding you with the query, hello, how are you feeling?

I don't got much money but my baby love she don't care
and if you read between the lines my middle fucking finger is there
and ill sing a melody out of key and out of tune- too soon
and if you got a lot of problems, then the now is opportune- the bloom

waking and baking up with the day
fighting through Babylon were working to make a wage
building through our munitions our minds will kill their ways
and we sharpen up on our attacks for the revolution of fate wait
infecting the paradigm to afflicted
the parasite is a business no matter shade of your pigment
so what you fixing, a premonition of Nixon, an inside job of a figment
that's Watergate the victims

I don't got much money but my baby love she don't care
and if you read between the lines my middle fucking finger is there
and ill sing a melody out of key and out of tune- too soon
and if you got a lot of problems, then the now is opportune- the bloom

We got logistics, ballistics and lyric misfits
diminishing all you kingpins, transfixing you into smidgeons
where's the mortician, homicide's in the kitchen
been cooking a new tradition, my people over the bullshit
win for losing is common among the target
too often we're disregarded, the modest become despondent
dismiss the prophets, we're standing up for the artists
The season is now upon us, blooming into the harvest- the bloom.