(stic.man)
Yeah ... for all my peoples that's hungry
(Chorus)
A nigga need food
You got to have food for ya health, and clothes
Gear to keep esteem for yaself, son, shelter
A place to lay for rest when ya stressed over life
Cause it's trife and ain't no god gon help ya
(stic.man)
I feel the winter heart creepin
Vicious as the wind, which is life, when it's deep without a meanin
A trife scene it screams, niggas fiendin
The pipe dream and some be seemin like the only way to keep
Breathin in the slums -- but nothing comes
And keeping funds is like dreamin
My situation no solution, even the young become demons
Where I'm from shit is unyielding
Something like three-hundred million gun wielding black rats trapped in one building
With low ceilings, and no feelings
Cutthroat villains, dope dealings, and glossy eyed pavilions
Sunken faces, and powder traces
My people slave for the basics
The powerless devoured in the matrix
Of politics, pimps and glass pipes
From gun blast and flickin off blunt ash, the cash heist
The fast life where the have-nots rule
Stick and grab plots, toting tools, victim last by some jewels
Round the world, we stay stuck in capsules, shackled
And crackas got homes like castles
I figure the only way this nigga got to go is wild
Plottin licks for liberation, stockin cap style
(Chorus x2)
(M-1)
I was born in the storm hearin gun clap from thunder
See my childhood peers, catchin years in the numbers
I wake up from hunger, try to lift the stress that I'm under
How I made it this far makes me wonder
You in a fight for your life, for basic human rights
Can't afford the boomin prices, it's economic crisis
Life is a sacrifice, I'm down to my last bag of rice
They forcin us to live like laboratory mice
Like fuckin laboratory mice that's right
You wear the camaflouge, but do you choose to live the soldiers life
I told u before this is a war not a play fight
Taught to be a slave from the womb to the gravesite
Some of us even share the views of the canaanites
Tryna be white, but they gon lose in this game of life
So dead that! I tie my dread back and scheme
Put a star on my Red, Black and Green
(Chorus x2)
(Bridge)
What do power mean,
Our team seem to think it means sour cream
Cause our dreams got us fiendin for the power, son
And Huey P. said political power come from the barrel of the gun
What do power mean, I believe in thieving
And smoking weed, everything happens for a reason
I hope my seed grow up and get even, it's open season
And if you poor and black, you know the reason ... yeah
Food, Clothes & Shelter Pt. 2 Lyrics performed by Dead Prez are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Food, Clothes & Shelter Pt. 2 Lyrics performed by Dead Prez is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD