I pity the punks that partake in the madness

Yangin' the young for their products and profit

The pushers keep pushin' on D and on Jump Street

Pushin' the passive pill, so ya don't need

kids makin' bids with their nine's in their goose downs

'Cause college is pricey and some brothers ain't got none

You try to discern between truth and suggestion

but they bid for your ID via fear of rejection



All I see is outfits and attitudes, congenial criminality

The hidden agenda is a psychic necessity

Hungry minds so sad in the hearts of darkness

manifesting some sort of natural impatience

Deaf MacBeth, scar city, the slasher

Enveloping the b-boy, the doper, the thrasher

Looking to be judged but when judged by the book

Son you're running to the hook



Back with the funk hits, Uncle Huey is back with

the funk hits, and the F.L.C. is coming to grips

with a fist full of funk hits

I got the feel good hit of the year, I got two thumbs up

and I stuck'em in his ear. The man stepped to me,

he wouldn't let it end though, so I threw his ass out

the Roxy Deli window



I ain't pushin' no party, I ain't meddlin' in Saudi,

but i think it's fucked up, what the federal has laid on me

I've been watchin' the news, you're forcing people

to choose between the lesser of two evils; my red, white, and blue

The deceiver's deceiving because the people believe him

Soon the troops'll be bleedin' and their mama's will be grieving

So keep on payin' your taxes, when you don't know the facts

Let the contracts get backed, while your conscience relaxes


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