Jus Marx. Inauguration Day
[Intro]
(excerpt from former President Obama's Farewell Address)
[Verse 1]
They can't stand to see a brotha winnin'
So they went and pulled the Trump card
Between the two parties, not a single f..ck is given
Just a racist entertainer and a dumb broad
But we ain't move here, we was chose, Massa
We built the White House from the ground up
As far as I'm concerned, this country's not yours, Massa
All that hard work, look where done we wound up
One tree can make a million match sticks
One strike could burn the whole forest down
But how the f..ck we supposed to have shit
Lost in a sea of Jesse Jacksons and Colin Powells?
Assassinated all the Black leaders
From Solomon to Huey, 2Pac to Aaliyah
Erased ‘em and replace ‘em with Sharptons and Condoleezas
500 years as slaves, think it's bout time they free us, huh?
They try to tell us “Vote or Die”
But no matter who in office, they gon' gun us down
Whoever said a change was coming told a lie
No amendments, they just offer us the run around
So it's "shoot first and ask questions later"
Give ‘em time to cover up and bribe the investigators
Man up, it's on you
We ain't gettin' nowhere with “Hands Up, Don't Shoot,” nigga
[Hook]
Playing the victim is old news
Don't let the system control you
That's old news, take charge
Don't let let system control you
X2
[Verse 2]
If it's “No More Justice,” we'll be all night
Long as we got us then, we'll be all right
Monkey see, monkey do in this doggy dog life
But doggy don't eat if doggy don't bite
But when doggy show teeth then, doggy get iced
By a bloodhound in heat, or the crooked pol-ice
These crackaz get slaps on the wrists, pats on the back
A brotha mindin' his business gets click, clack and a blast
Seems the Blacks is servin' life for servin' white
But that Yayo didn't ship itself
You know who put it in these streets, why they ain't servin time?
One of many secrets Reagan didn't tell
It's crazy, all the crack babies was Black babies
Thought they killed the Panthers, but we back baby
Don't let em tell us different, you and I are Gods
Put the politicians against an all-black fire squad
Tired of ranting and demanding, nigga
Chanting and protesting, I've had enough of that
Seems the only way they'll understand a nigga
If he put the picket sign down and pick up a strap
No such thing as Black on Black murder
What you're listening to's equivalent to the new Nat Turner
And since they'll never hear the shit I write down
I think it's bout time we wipe out the White House
[Hook]
[Outro]
(excerpt from Malcom X's “Message to the Grass Roots”)