Busdriver - Species of Property lyrics

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Busdriver - Species of Property lyrics

[Intro] Everything is alright Everything is okay, okay Everything is alright Everything is okay Watcha gonna do with that beat Watcha gonna do with that beat Watcha gonna do with that beat Watcha gonna do with that beat [Verse 1] They're telling me that the body is free But we're the species of property They hit the n***as with them hidden fees They hit them n***as like a timpani They telling me that my body is free But we're the species of property The popo still gotta follow me While I wear my sneakers and a cotton tee Everybody's gotta play to win Lowered down to my shade of skin They're trapping out at the Days Inn And you're all thumbs, you're all thumbs Decorative African skull Full of olive pits and wine corks Own my judge and high court And you're all hung, you're all hung You're all hung Yeah, whoa [Verse 2] When you end up getting capital The cobwebs in your shadow, gotta dabble with your nerve center When your life is derated And you're feeling isolated, that's when you become a bird letter I'm a parasitic b**h Eating asparagus tips while obscuring that money pit You were still a televised veteran Return to the center with your surname ‘Honey dip' This our disheveled, cell zombie shell For that high society ride-along But what do we own, I get deboned So I bemoan that cyber song This rougish more than the underscore Is inebriated at the oven door With a sputtering core chanting “n***a we did it, n***a we did it” [Hook] They're telling me that the body's free But we the species of property The popo gotta follow me While I'm wearing my sneakers and a cotton tee They're telling me that we're not free But I'm the species of property They got my essence under lock and key No no you're mistaken not me Not me No no, you're mistaken not me Yes, you Yes, you [Outro] My son asked me what a n***a was, and if I was one was he one too? It would have meant to be of n***a-stock How can we define this n***a that we resemble Or are qualities lost in the abstraction of prayer Did we become or were we always this, and what was this? Where did the border between us and the world merge? No one knows Thankfully we do know the storms that forge the idea the definition is uninterrupted The n***a is the variable The n***a is the unknowable A mislabeled parcel of human electricity Prehistoric in form, beyond time and essence I wrote that for Baltimore