[Hook] [Apathy] [x2]
It's all gangstas gangstas at the top of the list
So I play my own sh** it goes something like this
[Verse One] [Apathy]
You can try to shoot a pistol but the wounds are superficial
In comparison to h**ne addiction when it hits you
We're proud to be Americans when arrogance is in you
From the second the vagina spits you till you're dyin' a cripple
The crime is when we're k**in' innocent Iraqi children
But what?
We should turn to pacifism till crash into our buildings
Till the ga**es start spillin' over ma**es of civilians
Tryin' to ma**acre a billion when they pack a transistor into your fillings
When the governments the villains
When they watch with hidden cameras that's up inside your ceilings
It's cold at night
Even in the summer I shake
I crumble and break while dirty bombs thunder and quake
I feel philosophical now, with all that Apathy knows
Reality blows
So I watch reality shows
And feel blanketed when television circuits are bright
I'm searchin' at night
To channel surf until the perfect light
Purchase a wife
While fabricated idols gets activated
Originality was a**a**inated
I cried when it died
Screamin' to help stop the bleedin'
But nobody understood the strange language I was speakin'
I'm over your head
Oversize fitted are skull caps
I radiate the way Aviator jackets and throwbacks
I go back
Before the Rittlin and the Prozac
When rap was pro-black
You s**ers don't know Ap
I rip mics
But only solve problems with fist fights
Just because I'm smooth don't mean that I treat a b**h right
My insight extends from sunlight to the twilight
But at night I'm ignorant and can't get my mind right
[Hook] [Apathy] [x4]
It's all gangstas gangstas at the top of the list
So I play my own sh** it goes something like this
[Verse Two] [Celph Titled]
Yo
I ain't tryin' to hear nothin' from you so save it
No demo tapes I'm only listenin' to my favorites of cla**ic rap greatest hits
Why at one time was hip hop music so sacred
Now they made it so easy, kids with home computers is makin' it
I remember studio sessions were special
DAT machines and reel to reels, no CD burners and no ma** appeal
Too much of somethin' is not good, on the contrary
The rap telemarketers are chief executive officer
Board room O.G.s in leather swivel chairs
Laughin' at the sh** we talkin', all them oversize clothes we wear
But f** it
We sell murder
And sell to herds of
Children who hear the same sh** that's used to sell burgers
But I ain't sympathizin' and you heard it from the horse's mouth
Cause I'll bust guns and turn happy homes to an orphan's house
One of the best in rap's history to hold a mic
And real Cuban who thinks the movie Scarface is over hyped
So all you rappers scratch it off your favorite movie list
Or find yourself bleeding next to a pile of empty uzi clips
Stop idolizin'
Get your own style
I ain't rockin' gold teeth cause they'll provoke me to smile
Though for a while
I looked for hope but couldn't see any
And it didn't look right like a mohawk on P. Diddy
Get them some cheese cake to flaunt
But I'd rather sell 3H to juniors and I ain't talkin' about the restaurant
[Hook] [Apathy] [x4]
It's all gangstas gangstas at the top of the list
So I play my own sh** it goes something like this