Del The Funky Homosapien - Dells Nightmare lyrics

Let me tell you a little story about the slave master Use a whip on your a** so you behave faster You got chains on your neck, and the Man's respect You'll work all damn day, but you will never see a check In the field. Cotton you yield. Your skin peels off your back From the crack of the whip. It won't heal Ya wish you had a shield 'cause he wields iron So when you act up, he smokes ya and keeps firing And it's tiring Forget about recreation One wrong move and it's d**h you're facing White motha f**az got the ball and chain On your leg, and in the form of religion on your brain They say, "You the devil." You say, "Who the devil?!?!" Some of us was house n******gs. Some of us was rebels Some tried to get along the best they could And didn't nobody use the phrase, "It's all good!" Would you? They got you living like a shrew They throw you pig lips and chicken gizzards. Then you make a stew They give us a white Jesus to appease us We talk among ourselves and hope nobody sees us They had our brothers beating us. Called us createns plus monkeys They just junkies mistreating us The master said, "If you don't whip 'em, you're dead!" It was f**ing with his head, but he beat us instead And we bled Red blood flowing like a flood Then he'd rape your mother. Stick her face in the mud They were ruthless! If you tried to front, you'd be toothless Some tried to run even though it seemed useless Virginity was torn. Soon babies was born that was half white And now his skin is kind of light You think you're special, because they let you Oversee the carnage? But I bet you Will get hung, even if you stick out your tounge 'Cause they pull out the shank and stick it right through you're lung Now it's 96 and white people say, "Forget it It's all in the past." And some even regret it 'Cause they think we'll set it Now my missions to get federal So I can raise a black family with a true devils And you know how that goes (Chorus 2x) The slave master watching over you Always trying to tell you what the f** to do! The slave master watching over you But ain't nothing gonna stop me and my crew! This is for you kids trying to get signed Just a little something you should keep in mind: The labels are slave masters. Artists are slaves Don't get too raunchy. They want you to behave You get signed. You're thinking, "This is great!" But wait You never knew what was at stake Creative control they withold You sell your soul when you sign on the dotted line hoping to go gold But you'll never see that, not without promotion The label'll just throw your sh** out, and got it floatin' You think your sh** is potent, but ain't nobody buying it If they ain't never heard of it, ain't nobody trying it If they ain't never heard of it 'your record' they murder it You can complain. But they are not concerned a bit 'Cause when they signed you, they thought you'd make a hit 'cause of who you were affiliated with, and all that bullsh** Frustrations. All these rules and regulations Just so you can have your sh** heard by the nation And be patient 'Cause by the time they find a lead release, your sh** is ancient You think they're working your album? You're mistaken And if you flop, you get dropped 'Cause you ain't the star. You didn't go pop Just straight up hip-hop. Time to get a mop 'Cause without no promotion, of course sales drop Peep the break down: If tapes cost ($)10 You'll probaably only get to see a dollar in the end That you cannot spend. Cause your budget gets recouped So you never get cash unless your record is "Shoop." You better hope you get shows, which will not happen If you don't have a record that's the main attraction Even if you sell a million, you'll get burned Cause they keep half your cash just in case of returns For a while, you wonder why rappers don't smile 'cause to them, you're not an artist. You're just another file Another n***a used to make another buck They don't give a f**. And if your sh** don't blow up, tough But the star gets both promotion and devotion From the whole f**ing staff. At you, they laugh The star probably don't know that he the house n***a Thinking he bigger cause he's the, pick of the litter These lebels think backwards. They push the acts that need it the least So they can get all the money they can when it's released They take you to a restarant for a feast And then expect you to pck up the check? That's why I give props to n***as who is independent: 'Cause they make they own money, plus decide how to spend it Splendid.And lets end it And don't get offended (Chorus 2x) The slave master watching over you Always trying to tell you what the f** to do The slave master watching over you But ain't nothing gonna stop me and my crew Hieroglyphics!