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lirik lagu payday monsanto - buy design

i’m that cat that’s quick to put the bass in ‘ya face, adjacent to grace, i be escapin’ with papes, from the bank depository. sk~nk, you gotta story to tell? keep that sh~t to youself, i’m not about the glory. f~ck the fame, and the bourgeois b~tches, honey i want the money, yes, i’m all about obtainin’ riches. man, f~ck this rap sh~t as well, hip~hop, it’s an actual place in which i dwell. more than a state of mind, where actors ill~strate a crime, on wax, then play the characters they made, shut up and say ‘ya rhymes. suckers get so upset, to find out they don’t own a set, i’m sorta like a homeless vet, that didn’t get his bonus, yet. my fashion statement’s makin’ bombs, all the clothes i got look like they from the lucky~shop, over in sleighton farms. your material world don’t meet expectancy (illusions of grandeur) you’re all f~ckin’ peasants to me…

you think police want peace on the streets? man, you’re blind, the prison industry complex would lose it’s f~ckin’ mind. their survival’s dependent upon you commitin’ a crime. it’s not an accident, the system is wicked by design…
you think police want peace on the streets? man, you’re blind, the prison industry would lose it’s f~ckin’ mind. their survival’s dependent upon you commitin’ a crime. it’s not an accident, the system is wicked by design…

the state’s confusin’ you, with a great illusion, too, while the f~ck us. democracy doesn’t exist, like juvenile justice. to them, the youth is just rats they wanna study, at centers, meant to prevent your downfall, but it’s all done for money. and, they make us worship papers, and k!ll each other, after they outsource all the jobs, and flood the streets with drugs. you will discover, people are poor on purpose, ask ‘ya mother, for capitalism to prosper, somebody’s got to suffer. they’ve conditioned people to walk into expensive restaurants, oblivious to the homeless man, that’s lyin’ in the entrance. hundreds of billions of dollars for pentagon defenses, while education fundin’ ain’t even seein’ one percentage. i wanna be a news reporter, ’cause i’m able to smile, while i get into details about a gruesome slaughter. set charlie manson free, stop frontin’ high~class, you’re all f~ckin’ peasants to me…

(lewka peel)
the system’s designed, and been so people get them legal searches, then get the get~go. designed to pinch those, wicked wolves fingerprinted. trigger~rigger, submitted, so can the kids can figure, and spit it out the mouth. mean machine, shot ’em up, and locked ’em up, when they agreed to freeze. you seen the scene, prove chart arrangements, televised live, like funerals for entertainment. numeral cycles strike you, you will soon copy, pushin’ a broom, ’cause bush & his goons illumin~z~’s. truant, but probably murdered, turned out the burglar just wanted a turkey burger. by design, divided the mind, in~line side~by~side, some kinda crime. winston smith said it, then they left him vetted. head itch, tickin’ from each treatment, that his speech expired…

(lewka peel)
k!lly~philly, really livin’ paranoid. walk on around, this is a parrot~ploy. they marriage toys, with the big~boys, and a fabric gets (hmm) justice in coins. megaphone over the con~camp, yo the boss cobra rockin’ his god cap. ain’t non of these snakes f~ckin’ with me, i break they great rates up, in my dungarees. some of my fellas be hungry, h~ll i’m sendin’ death~threats up in 33 companies. we got no choice, we got no voice. so, stop c~ck the glock, and keep the piece moist. rolls~royce is where they wanna f~ck us, dump us, and then run us the f~ck over. the chauffeur, roll with karl rove, save they sons, discussions of clones & barcodes…

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