Rousseau

(Akin)

A chimp in the jungle, I like to gather wisdom in bundles

My arms sway from the branches of life, I write humble

My notes I crumble, my hopes I fumble

Can't drop it, a ghost among you folks that stumble 'cross logic

I'm definite, like change I strain with rewards while

Speck and Enoch start bangin' on boards

Daily routines like fiends that stuck on the crack pipe

I rhyme over feedback, dare mics not to act right

The emcee, and see y'all just tempt me

With all your propaganda, your souls' empty

I was born free, now I stay confined

To this day and time

A slave to the ways of the world

Although I'm not blind

Machine gotta, hold on your blue-jean Prada

Whether you white, black, rich or poverty's product

It's a known fact

Sorta like forty acres they owe black

Some might hitch-hike on hopes that never rolled back

(Rico Suave)

I was born free

But now I'm like a slave to society

Can't get a license without consent to field sobriety

If you have a plan they say life will flow beautifully

I need tech support

Like Vanilla Sky

'Cause somebody lied to me

Told me shit was cool

I made good grades, but damn, I got kicked outta school

It doesn't matter

My computer doesn't read the data

Even if you're smart your life still can get shattered

Into little pieces, this is my thesis

Just 'cause I raise beats in the belly of the beasts

My people die in vain

Their pain is on my brain

And how can I get by when held by this mental strain?

I just don't understand

I bes a grown ass man

But every time I see the cops they make me lift my hands

So they can pat me down, and I just don't see how

I play by their rules but they still treat me foul

Damn!

(Cise Star)

So what is this I'm living?

Day-in and day-out, earning

My soul I'm overspending, it's the petty change I'm getting

Back through transactions, money limits my actions

I try to raise up, but damn!

Trying to move, I struggle

Moving through hurt's trouble

Bumping my head against the ceiling, I ain't even stumble

My eyes so black-and-blue, rattle my shackles too

I try to remove 'em, but damn!

Sounds like that I'm in hell

But really I'm in jail

The space between my two ears became my private cell

Ready, willing, and able

Anything just to stable

They just cut off my cable!

No food up in my kitchen, but I got dirty dishes

Does that make any sense?

My life ain't ever easy, my girlfriend's gonna leave me

Who scratched my Nas CD?

(Aww man, you lettin' Kenny hold your CDs again man? Motherfucker always scratchin' my CDs man)