Public Enemy - Hoover Music lyrics

You got the mic, people
So called street cred
The radio, the TV, the world wide web
But we can't do nothing with what you said
Sounds like somebody's in bed wit the feds
Hoover Music

How you gonna make music when you take music
And abuse it to make my crew sick
So nobody else can use it
More than just some
Non-singin', drug slingin'
Hollywood swingin'
Fling, sing, is it rating or raping?
No more taping, but somebody still regulating
These love to hate songs and
Y'all know that's wrong
Anything for the money, tough guy
BET, MTV, P-IC, the M-IC, the P-IG
Honestly, this policy be killin' me
Good for who, good for what
Is your mind body soul better from it?
Tell me why do y'all love it?
Songs meant to send you to prison
Bids to influence a million and a half kids

You got the mic, people
So called street cred
The radio, the TV, the world wide web
But we can't do nothing with what you said
Sounds like somebody's in bed wit the feds
Hoover Music

Mon-stars lurking the planet fame
One hand in your pocket
One hand in your brain
Sucking your soul like some video game
And I don't even understand what
The F you sayin' who's consumin' the boom as
They vacuum your room
Shake your boom boom as
They finance your doom
You think it's romance just
Because you could dance
That Black exec you know
He did not stand a chance
Trapped in the middle of what you be doin'
Increased market position
Down to what and how you listen
Came in this game
Never thought that I'd ever
See hip-hop, the game, in the name of J edgar

You got the mic, people
So called street cred
The radio, the TV, the world wide web
But we can't do nothing with what you said
Sounds like somebody's in bed wit the feds
Hoover Music

From the cats told crap
Young rappers gettin' trapped
Buying the same of trick on some
Of the same old tracks
The rich stackin' chips
Poor banging with new slang
In the ghost and the shadow
Of your government name made in the USA
Fighting the power in Brooklyn
To grinnin' and juicin' while
Your law be crooked
Say you don't know me or owe me or us
In my disgust
Interrupting my Black August so I fuss
'Cause these white kids confusing
The worst of us sex and drink songs
Fight clubs gettin' they strip on
Gangs of kids who copy what they did
Both coasts are clear
Some people got no idea who sent 'em here

You got the mic, people
So called street cred
The radio, the TV, the world wide web
But we can't do nothing with what you said
Sounds like somebody's in bed wit the feds
Hoover Music

Check the list, bitch!