Various Artists - Sellin' D.O.P.E. (Album Version) lyrics

Dead prez - “Sellin' D.O.P.E.” [Produced by dead prez] [Intro: stic.man] Drugs Oppress the People Everyday [Hook 1: stic.man] Selling dope, serving weed. We had To hustle to hustle just to eat [Verse 1: stic.man] Ain't no hope in the streets—you broke, you sell dope All my young n***as outside hustling coke Know the drama. If you ain't selling crack, then it's ganja I've been through it, dun, hitting n***as two for one Pulling guns out and busting my sh**s too. What? I ain't give a f**. I used to get a rush when I bust mine Bagging up my nickels and dime, going through Difficult time, writing my life's story in rhyme But when I look at all the n***as they hit with mad time In proportion to the big kingpins, it don't fit You could get caught with barely a half a slab And the judge sentence you like you ran the ave I ain't planned to get rich from selling that sh**—it was survival My game plan was not to get knocked by 5-0 But who am I? Just a young n***a caught in the mix And if this weed don't sell, I'ma cop me a brick [Hook 1: stic.man] Selling dope, serving weed. We had To hustle to hustle just to eat Selling dope, serving weed (Selling weed). We had To hustle just to eat [Verse 2: M-1] It's been a minute since I've been in the game. Some years Back, I held crack—I couldn't say the same thing Ask my n***a Bang Double in Raleigh. We was trouble Got the fiends' spot bubbling hot. We wouldn't never make A lot—I mean, not like Scarface or Nino Brown Or George Bush. No matter what you pushed It was politics and camera tricks, very deceptive Criminalize us and fooling the collective For the most part, we don't own no boats and planes We just cop it from papi, bag it in the cellophane It's a family thing. You got to hustle all night Yo, I seen fiends losing their brains for hard white Ask my aunt and my brother and my stressed-out mother How realistic it gets. It's sadistic Statistics show it's sick how we living The one thing bigger than dope games is prisons One million n***as inside. Over three Million is tied, but the president lied because The white house is the Rock House, Uncle Sam the Pusherman This is for my people on the island [Hook 1: stic.man] Selling dope, serving weed. We had To hustle to hustle just to eat Selling dope, serving weed (Selling weed). We had To hustle just to eat [Bridge 1: stic.man] But what we gonna do when we're caught up And have to face responsibility? (This that ghetto sh**. This that ghetto sh**) What we gonna do when we're caught up And have to face responsibility? (This that ghetto sh**. This that ghetto sh**) [Hook 1 (Overlapped with Hook 2): stic.man] (x2) Selling dope, serving weed. We had To hustle to hustle just to eat Selling dope, serving weed (Selling weed). We had To hustle just to eat [Hook 2 (Overlapped with Hook 1): stic.man] (x2) Out on the block, white t-shirt, army fatigues n***as hold crack in their mouth, watching for D's Selling dope, you know how it beez trying to get That government cheese and the D's yell freeze [Outro: stic.man] Tallaha**ee up in this b**h. My n***a Maintain, N.I.M.R.O.D.. My n***a Percent, Abu. My brother Troy locked up. Huey Newton, rest in peace. South Raleigh, California, Brooklyn, Dean Street. dead prez '98. Get it straight. And all my family and my whole army. Get it straight