[Intro]
Hey, my name's Malik and k**er Mike's my dad
If you don't like what he's sayin', so what
That's life
Told you last tape I'm a k**er man
I'm a rapper, what the f** do I know
Well I'm also a n***a that came off Martin Luther King, man
Son of a dope lady
And I went to f**in' Morehouse n***a
I accomplished something, I became something n***a
That's who I am to criticize any n***a
Oprah, Bill, Clinton, Cosby, anybody
[Verse 1]
The fat b**h singing show over, end opera
Leader of the crack Rat Pack, I Sinatra
They say I dissed Oprah
I'm like so what
I never get to jump up and down on a sofa (that's life)
Now watch me as I Cruise like Tom through the slums
Where the education's poor and the children growing dumb
In the section of the city where saditty's don't come
Where Mr. Cosby and Ms. Winfrey won't come
Unless it's a hurricane then FEMA don't come
Coming live from the city where the Dreamer came from
Standing on the same corners that he stood upon
I got violence in my waistband, d**h in my palm
Ask 'em am I a bad guy, ya goddamn right
I done seen how ya do a n***a when he doin' right
The Dream died on a balcony, standin' at a hotel
Now n***as whippin' coke gel and a O tale
We desegregated - put black with the white
No longer marching for rights, they sparking a pipe (that's life)
Pipe dreams, crack fiends
Cars look like ice cream
Kids see the bling-bling and they want them nice things
All cause of tennis shoes our kids drop out of schools
They said be like Mike, so ball n***a (that's life)
Now help me understand something
If you a leader and you really mean something to your people
Ain't you supposed to be in the community with your people?
Ain't you supposed to be there?
Like the only people I see in the communities
Are rappers and ball players
Where the f** all y'all doctors?
Where y'all bourgeoisie n***as at?
All the kids got is us, Grind Time rap game
[Verse 2]
Read an old magazine, check out a new dress
I be havin' conversations with Cornel West
k**er Mike don't give a damn if it's me ya ain't likin'
The last great debate I had was with Michael Eric Dyson
Call me a dumb rapper
Girl stop, pardon me
You be hard pressed to find another rapper smart as me
Maybe Jay-Z, 2Pac, C-U-B-E
But Oprah'd rather put Superhead on TV
Now whatcha white audience gon' think about we
The same white audience that watch Bill O' Reilly
I saw the smirk on they face when you came at Luda
The same nice ladies that forgave Martha Stewart
So I can be a crook
Take money off the books
Just as long as I'm liked by a rich man's wife?
OK, hold up. I can't rap about doing crime
But if I actually do crime, and do time
I can come back out
And have a TV show
With an all white audience
If I rob shareholders of millions?
But if I rap about getting some money on the block
It's a problem?
Are you f**in' retarded?
I'm not even gonna tell you how stupid you are right now
Cause you should already know, Grind Time Rap Game (that's life)
[Verse 3]
Niecey had a man, not a mouse or a mole
When the pressure come knockin, I ain't runnin in a hole
George Bush don't like blacks
No sh**, Sherlock
And his daddy CIA had flooded the hood with rock
And his momma said the women oughta feel at home
Gettin' raped in the bathroom in the Superdome
The comment Kanye made was damn near right
But Bush hate poor people
Be 'em black or white (that's life)
Hell yeah I said it, cause Oprah won't say it
And Bill won't say it, and they still won't say it
If you really bout intelligence, you really know I'm right
If you lookin' for some leadership, look for k**er Mike (that's life)
Lookin' for a movement, it's Grind Time Rap Game
Kids see us in the street and go bang bang bang
They see me on the street and on the corners they hang
Myspace Grind Time Online, join the gang
[Outro]
Aye man, all you adults out there, all you supposed grown people
Would you please stop lying to young people
Could we please have a moment of f**in' honesty?
You know honesty?
The sh** you ask young people to be with you when you ask are they havin' s** or doin' d**?
Could we please stop f**in' lying
Like you preachers out there who spread the myth
That young boys who sag their pants picked that sh** up in prison to let n***as know they h*mos**uals
You in your f*ggot, twisted mind know that ain't true
You sick f**, for even sayin' that sh**
We wear our f**in' pants big
Because our mothers were too poor to buy our size
So they had to buy two or three sizes up
Call it what it is n***a: poverty
It's f**in' poverty
You know poverty, the opposite of the big f**in' cars and planes you drive
Mutherf**a
To all you rich bourgeoisie n***as out there
Stop ignoring your cousins in the ghetto
Because they're there
Stop looking down on 'em
Stop using crack addicts and Mexicans
As cheap labor to build your f**in' houses
And then sh**ting on poor black people and Latins
You pieces of sh**
That's for you rich motherf**as: black and white
In the mean time us rappers
Us lowly b-boys and us motherf**in' athletes'll be here in the ghetto
Servicing the motherf**in' children
We are the new Robin Hoods
We are the Pied Pipers
We will lead the kids into a better life than the motherf**in' lies you doing
Kids grow up, be doctors, be lawyers
Just don't be liars and connivers like the ones we got now
Young men, grow up
Be clergymen, be a preacher
Just don't be a motherf**in' greedy hog like most of the ones we got now
Grind Time Rap Game
Bang, bang, bang
If you don't like what I'm sayin'....that's life