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Lyrics
Bucka, bucka, bucka, bucka, bucka, bucka Ha ha You know the deal It's just me, yo Beats by Su-Primo for all of my people, Negros and Latinos And even the gringos Yo, check it one for Charlie Hustle, two for Steady Rock Three for the forth-coming live future shock It's five dimensions, six senses Seven firmaments of Heaven to Hell, eight million stories to tell Nine planets faithfully keep in orbit With the probable tenth, the universe expands length The body of my text posses extra strength Power-lift the powerless up, out of this, towering inferno My ink so hot it burn through the journal I'm blacker than midnight on Broadway and Myrtle Hip-hop past all your tall social hurdles Like the nationwide projects, prison-industry complex Working class poor better keep your alarm set Streets too loud to ever hear freedom ring Say evacuate your sleep, it's dangerous to dream For ch-ching cats get they cha-paow, you dead now Killing fields need blood to graze the cash cow It's a number game, but shit don't add up somehow Like I got, sixteen to thirty-two bars to rock it But only fifteen percent of profits, ever see my pockets like Sixty-nine billion in the last twenty years Spent on national defense but folks still live in fear like Nearly half of America's largest cities is one-quarter black That's why they gave Ricky Ross all the crack Sixteen ounces to a pound, twenty more to a key A five minute sentence hearing and you no longer free Forty percent of Americans own a cell phone So they can hear, everything that you say when you ain't home I guess, Michael Jackson was right, you are not alone Rock your hardhat black 'cause you in the Terrordome Full of hard niggas, large niggas, dice tumblers Young teens and prison greens facing life numbers Crack mothers, crack babies and AIDS patients Young bloods can't spell but they could rock you at PlayStation This new math is whipping motherfuckers' ass You wanna know how to rhyme you better learn how to add It's mathematics Yo, it's one universal law but two sides to every story Three strikes and you biddin' for life, mandatory Four MC's murdered in the last four years I ain't trying to be the fifth one, the millennium is here Yo, it's six million ways to die from the seven deadly thrills Eight-year olds getting found with 9 mill's It's ten P.M., where your seeds at? What's the deal? He on the hill pumpin' krills to keep they bellies filled Light in the ass with heavy steel, sights on the pretty shit in life Young soldiers trying to earn they next stripe When the average minimum wage is $5.15 You best believe you gotta find a new ground to get C.R.E.A.M The white unemployment rate is nearly more than triple for black So front liners got they gun in your back Bubbling crack, jewel theft and robbery to combat poverty And end up in the global jail economy Stiffer stipulations attached to each sentence Budget cutbacks but increased police presence And even if you get out of prison still living Join the other five million under state supervision This is business, no faces just lines and statistics From your phone, your zip code, to SSI digits The system break man, child and women into figures Two columns for who is and who ain't niggas Numbers is hard and real and they never have feelings But you push too hard, even numbers got limits Why did one straw break the camel's back? Here's the secret The million other straws underneath it, it's all mathematics
More songs from Mos Def
Song Info
Release Year
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Genres
Hip-Hop
Rap
Moods
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Vocals
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