This game is thick, politics and pale faces
and these dark skin negros, itchin to change places
wantin' to reign supreme, niggas catchin cases
where brothers turn fiend, cause they can't face this
the game ain't told - it's sold for brother souls
my people live in poverty - Mr. Charlie sat on swoll
they wonder why the thugs cry and their hearts turn cold
they got us twisted and deny our votes at the white man's poll
they brought us on boats to add labor to this nation
infest our hoods with dope - now servin's the occupation
blind us to life by material infatuation
enslaved to this living, screaming emancipation proclamation
I scream "set me free from this land" through my third eye and see
monkey Tom singing "my country tis of thee"
we steady searching for the land of liberty
the sweet land of jewels that was promised to me
It was a hoax the 40 acres and the mule
with the flow my people gettin played as fools
time to wisen up, get a grip and use our tools
I know you tired of poverty, being mistreated and abused
we got the knowledge - slave labor built the land
they keep us out of college, so ignorance is their plan
clearly I see mental freedom wasn't meant for the black man
trapped in society with statues and laws only they can overstand
dark skin is a sin in this white man's world
my brothers drown their emotions by getting drunk til they hurt
who cares about the early morning fiend twitchin for a fix
the united snakes of american politics
