Immortal Technique - The People Are Shit lyrics
[Immortal Technique - The People Are Shit lyrics]
(Immortal Technique)
Yeah its Harlem (ahahaa)
Tellin' you the other side of the story
(yeah)
Its that serious (let these muthafuckas know)
The peoples souls are dirty, unworthy
Your words of salvation are murder capital
Clappin' you on random occasions
In the hood the good die
Young cause death is impatient
The laws are manufactured by
One religious denomination
Its fate that I spit
Sick psychotic analogies
This is a world where niggas pimp
The children and their family
The beast and the false prophet
Move closer gradually
Unforgivable sins, satanic bestiality
You got the muthafuckin nerve to point
Your finger mad at me
Cause' I select to put the
World in perspective for clarity
Street hustle ghetto salary
Grammatically perfect now fuck soundscan
My sound make your faculty nervous
Selfish and worthless
Placin' they faith in partisan churches
And too self-righteous to look
Beyond the curses so I made it my purpose to
Purchase space in your brain
And flood the fuckin border
With Peruvian cocaine!
While they engineer diseases tryna
Leave you dead again corporate strategy
The profit producing the medicine
My flow is human evolution, savage to elegant
Run up on a nigga, like a military regiment
Cockin' the gat, lock and load, poppin a cap
Making your stomach acid splatter out
A hole in your back cold on the track
The soul I hold is older than rap
So I can the evil and
Shitty people across the map (hahahaa)
You thought I wouldn't see you
For the devil you are
Fake muthafuckas turn around, tryna be stars
Turn their back on those who used to be fam
Over short money, type you get hustling grams
Fuck outta here'
And when your record label
Wanna hold your masters
Publishing and manage your marketing
Budget it's like
And when your peeps come home from prison
And can't
Get a job, then gotta do the same shit
That was the same shit that got them locked
Up in the first place it's like
And we got our true promoters
That put a fuckin gun
In a mixtape DJ's mouth just to get him
To play a fuckin record that
You pressed up yourself
And no one else is helping you with
It's like
Yeah the people are shit (fuck y'all)
Yeah its Harlem (ahahaa)
Tellin' you the other side of the story
(yeah)
Its that serious (let these muthafuckas know)
The peoples souls are dirty, unworthy
Your words of salvation are murder capital
Clappin' you on random occasions
In the hood the good die
Young cause death is impatient
The laws are manufactured by
One religious denomination
Its fate that I spit
Sick psychotic analogies
This is a world where niggas pimp
The children and their family
The beast and the false prophet
Move closer gradually
Unforgivable sins, satanic bestiality
You got the muthafuckin nerve to point
Your finger mad at me
Cause' I select to put the
World in perspective for clarity
Street hustle ghetto salary
Grammatically perfect now fuck soundscan
My sound make your faculty nervous
Selfish and worthless
Placin' they faith in partisan churches
And too self-righteous to look
Beyond the curses so I made it my purpose to
Purchase space in your brain
And flood the fuckin border
With Peruvian cocaine!
While they engineer diseases tryna
Leave you dead again corporate strategy
The profit producing the medicine
My flow is human evolution, savage to elegant
Run up on a nigga, like a military regiment
Cockin' the gat, lock and load, poppin a cap
Making your stomach acid splatter out
A hole in your back cold on the track
The soul I hold is older than rap
So I can the evil and
Shitty people across the map (hahahaa)
You thought I wouldn't see you
For the devil you are
Fake muthafuckas turn around, tryna be stars
Turn their back on those who used to be fam
Over short money, type you get hustling grams
Fuck outta here'
And when your record label
Wanna hold your masters
Publishing and manage your marketing
Budget it's like
And when your peeps come home from prison
And can't
Get a job, then gotta do the same shit
That was the same shit that got them locked
Up in the first place it's like
And we got our true promoters
That put a fuckin gun
In a mixtape DJ's mouth just to get him
To play a fuckin record that
You pressed up yourself
And no one else is helping you with
It's like
Yeah the people are shit (fuck y'all)