Roosevelt Franklin - Troublearth (Sorry f**ers It's Dirty) lyrics

[Hook 1: Kimani Rogers (of Roosevelt Franklin)] We are the children of concrete and steel and This is the time when the truth is concealed and This is the time when the lie is revealed because Everything is possible, but nothing is real But nothing is real. But nothing is real But nothing is real. But nothing is real [Verse 1: Kimani Rogers (of Roosevelt Franklin)] I never Felt as alone as I do at this moment On a park bench with eight million people around This woman powerwalks by in all-black. Her dark clashes With the cluttered leaves all on the ground. I'm made aware Of the tracks in my arm, the fear in my heart The tears in my eyes. I feel I'm falling apart Had these nightmares we're wrestling, smashed through the window panes I woke up in cold sweats with visions of Kurt Cobain Friends had always called me crazy, but I've claimed Eccentric. Now I stop and then I stroke much and, maybe, because Last night, the Devil came and paid me a visit Just to prove that he still existed. Said he had A tough time sorting through the righteous and wicked For now, I'll keep a gun in my bag if sh** thickens I'm awake all hours of the night, eyes wide-shut My brain's overactive, wind up naked in my bathtub The cool porcelain's dry-heaving, trembling From visions of the demon that I met last evening Leaving 1, 2, 3 stamped in a phantom trail Of blood that's gone stale and relationships failed I got a frail skeleton of beliefs but a healthy libido And I've never been too fond of people, so Welcome to the new face of evil, where the Devil Smiles in his speeches and genocide's legal Where the national pastime is k**ing innocent people Where we're led to believe that everyone who vote is eagle Where we no longer asking, “Why?” We ask, “How?” ‘Cause the past is so irrelevant. Future is now. We're here At war for control of your mind, soul, and spirit Where the truth is like the Sun: you get burned if you near it Got the Big 5 alive. We'll control what you hearing And the new, steaming 9 will control what you fearing And these politicians speaking out loud, using a forced tongue Lying like these n***as telling girls how much they're horse-hung You want to try and be a master on the Fourth Rung But all the second-hand smoke here, it corrodes lungs It's hard to stack your bread tight ‘cause the dough runs That's why the people on my block carry toast guns The way that things is getting now, I'm ‘bout to tote one ‘Cause Bush be on some [?] sh**. Murder, he wrote one Wrote one. Wrote one. Wrote one [Hook 2: Kimani Rogers (of Roosevelt Franklin)] (x4) So the world is in trouble, f**ers. It's time to face it Instead of sitting there, masturbating in your basement It's time to take a shower, change clothes, and hit the pavement And I'ma give you ten easy ways for you to save it