Oppression

Now they don't want me to rap.
        They don't want me to speak.
        They want me to sit there and think,
        what they tell me to think.
Now they don't want me to rap.
         They dont want they kids, actin like me.
         When they put they kids,
         in environments, that they shouldn't see.

You ever...
Wonder when the clubs are gonna close.
When crunk music is gonna blow its load,
and we can all just go home.
But for some reason it don't.
It just continues to grow and grow,
till actin outta control just feels old.
You ever...
Stop to contemplate, exactly what it takes,
to design a scheme that leaves,
so many people in poverty.
It's ingenius if you see it like I see it.
As the record execs sit at they desk.
They plot what hit is next,
by what keeps us oppressed,
and stuck in the same mess.
Depressed, while they blessed.

Now they don't want me to rap.
        They don't want me to speak...

HOLD UP! STOP!
I'm the one who murdered Pac.
His lyrics conflicted,
bringing to much vision, to parents
we ain't want makin decisions.
We need the division.
So, they kids stay stuck,
in the same shitty conditions.