You can bet ot, where it starts and it stops
isn't dependent on whether you raise your fist up or not.
Cos' somewhere upon a desktop
you could find your measurements, profile, and headshot.
Gridlocked on blocks, no Idon't stress cops
even after 9/11 when my rights left dodge.
Next thing I know they're roamin' streets dressed up
with the James Dean shades, black hats and lip gloss,
pissed off, cos' most of the brothahs got tipped off-
dipped out the chi, to the m-p-l spot
claimin' that they got the rap game in a choke hold
while the system gots their dick up their ass, screamin' uncle.
Ya' run,kill, drink, smoke, and thug still.
They got their eye on ya' waitin' for blood spill
to get their cup filled, and fuel this machine.
Can't tell… you're bleedin' gasoline
-
Chorus
Pour the oil out, and I'll light ya' fire
Lay my soil down and walk stride for stride
Shoot rhyme for rhyme at any lie ya try
To sell a nightmare as a dream
Persuade the streets to gunfight for life
And get the people to build an appetite for pie
I'm gonna fight the fight, walk stride for stride
Against the American Machine
-
Sip champagne on ya’ public campaign,
preach and make claims on how you plan to make change.
Ya’ don’t accentuate what ya’ really wanna say
is that the only change’ll be made for ya’ pay.
Said there’s no in-between, only an either-or.
Want to make the gap wider between rich and poor.
Take caution, be careful what you wish for
cos’ the next day ya’ might have a riot at ya’ door.
Want to hush hush the voices with questions
about livin’ wages and income.
I know what’s goin’ on with ya’ unaccounted funds.
I’m not a fool my momma come from the union.
Put ya’ in the chair, now time to testify.
Ladies and gentlemen would the court please rise
and pay witness to all ya’ unveiled lies.
Oh the picture was so pretty now it don’t look nice.
-
Chorus
-
Make statements to stay protected.
Call it racist when it’s afro-centric.
Call it what ya’ want, but the police do mind
when a fist gets raised up yellin’ African pride.
If ya’ don’t stand for somethin’ then you’ll for anything,
manipulated easily into following.
That’s not my calling, but sometimes I watch for kicks,
sit and listen to your speeches just for entertainment,
but what’ll happen to song when the chorus won’t sing?
Your deejay quits, and there’s no beat dropping-
out of the sky like a bird with one wing.
It’s hard to stand for something when you’re always falling.
It’s hard to stand for something when you’re always on your knees
beggin’ for forgiveness from your god or deity.
Want to repent for all the things that you took from the hood.
Please raise your right and place your left hand upon the book.
-
Chorus
credits
from After What Came Before,
released April 25, 2005
Vocals & Lyrics by Toussaint Morrison
Percussion by Spencer Austin
Bass by Daniel Leussler
Guitar by Edward Folly
Keys by Linden Killam
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