Lights, camera, tragedy, comedy, romance You better dance from your fighting stance Or you'll never have a fighting chance Where the referee's son started way in advance But still you livin' the American Dream Silk PJ's, sheets and down pillows Who the fuck would wanna wake up? You got it good like hot sex after the break up Your four car garage it's just more space to take up You even bought your mom a new whip scrap the jalopy Thousand dollar habit, million dollar hobby You a success story everybody wanna copy But few work for it, most get jerked for it If you think that you could ignore it, you're ig-norant A fat wallet still never made a man free They say to eat good, yo, you gotta swallow your pride But dead that game plan, I'm not satisfied
The poor get worked, the rich get richer The world gets worse, do you get the picture? The poor gets dead, the rich get depressed The ugly get mad, the pretty get stressed The ugly get violent, the pretty get gone The old get stiff, the young get stepped on Whoever told you that it was all good lied So throw your fists up if you not satisfied
Hey yo, the air's still stale The anthrax got my Ole Earth wearin' a mask and gloves to get a meal I know a older guy that lost twelve close peeps on 9-1-1 While you kickin' up punchlines and puns Man fuck that shit, this is serious biz By the time Bush is done, you won't know what time it is If it's war time or jail time, time for promises The same devils that you used to love to hate They got you so gassed and shook now, you scared to debate The same ones that traded books for guns And had fun lettin' off forty-one But now it's all about NYPD caps And Pentagon bumper stickers But yo, you still a nigga It ain't right them cops and them firemen died The shit is real tragic, but it damn sure ain't magic It won't make the brutality disappear It won't pull equality from behind your ear It won't make a difference in a two-party country If the president cheats, to win another four years Now don't get me wrong, there's no place I'd rather be The grass ain't greener on the other genocide But tell Huey Freeman don't forget to cut the lawn
Yo, poison pushers making paper off of pipe dreams They turned hip-hop to a get-rich-quick scheme The rich minorities control the gov'ment But they would have you believe we on the same team Sit your ass down if you don't know the answer Serious as cancer, this jam demands your undivided attention Grab the bull by the horns, the bucks by the antlers Get yours, what're you sweatin' the next man for? Get down, feel good to this, let it ride But until we all free, I'll never be satisfied
{*Singing with talking in background* (whoever told you that it was all good lied) (Throw your fists up if you not satisfied) (Whoever told you that it was all good lied)