Boaz, Schoolboy Q - America lyrics

Being here in America doesn't
Make you an American
Being born here in America doesn't
Make you an American
I see America through the eyes of the victim
I don't see any American dream
I see an American nightmare
Power to the people

We got more crack in the ghetto
Than they could grow in Columbia
Put this shit right in front of ya
This is America!
We got more guns in the hood
Than soldiers out on the line
See hustlers out on they grind
How you get rich in America
And we all just tryin' to make it
All around the world
For those who never mistake it
Ain't no place like America
And your pride get hard to
Swallow when everything controlled
By that all mighty dollar
We don't fear God in America

Okay the sun rise from the east
The west marked by the beast
The crime rate in my city
Still risin' like yeast my young homie said
"Fuck school" and hit the block
I try to tell him
"Be thankful for the shit you got"
Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you
They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves
Then kick the bucket for you
Still throwin' rocks at the pen
Full of dope spot
My homie just got out and locked up again
Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)
Speakin' frankly
It's all about the Benjamins
More chiefs than Indians
That's why I just be playin' my part
(my part) , keep doin' my thing thing
My phone like a telethon
It always go ring ring
My hands cash registered
They always go ching ching call me Joe Blow
Cause I'm smokin' that mean green
Gotta stay high to deal
With all these characters
Cash rules everything all over America

Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga
Bullets ejecting enter give Him a Hot winter
From a nobody nigga to top-tener
To bitcHes givin' Head just
Hopin' tHat I remember
Obama lied, ain't see sHit cHanged
THe cocaine came, witH no sHame
We does our thing
My gang go bang, His blog be tHe same
Her block be tHe same
I just migHt get rid of tHat
Range and cop me a plane
I'm gHetto fabulous
Not corporate but nigga ricH
Jesus CHrist can't believe tHis sHit
THe pistol on me make me feel grave
Ya man murked could make you feel Hate
A murder squad get the?
God couldn't Help me with the bills I pay
So I'm stealin' the collection plate
Prayed to Him, guess He answered late
On my knees just tired of
Tryin' to get His attention
So fuck it, I'm back to bitcHin'

Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare
War goin' on right here
The president well aware
Come through your city
But won't visit the ghetto there
We in our own world
From California to Delaware
The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'
How the prices be inflatin' all
The goods we exchangin'
To be doctor was my earlier plan
Til experience let me know I had
The world in my hand
Now I got so many girls in my pants
Don't know if they reachin' for me
Or the Jacksons and grams
I see my fans, they all happen to ask
Young Bo, when you gon' put the game
Back in the trance?
I'm like, "I'm on it, I'm on it"
You see how I be doin' it
I feel it then I record it
Sound the same when I'm performing
To tell the truth
The crack game was never boring
Bet they'll be the best memories
We talk about tourin'