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Correct My War, Your Problem Lyrics
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Artists: W
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Weerd Science
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Correct My War, Your Problem
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Every one of my lyrics when you hear it It'll burn your face as sulfuric acid If you're holdin' the microphone I suggest you pass it. Hand it over quickly Sickly's the only way I know how to drop it Every time I kick it people look at me like my name's Ripley's Believe it or Not Got a wonderful time slot here at the Zero Hour Been laughed at for rappin' ever since I was a little coward By all the kids who towered over me Overpowered me and beat the shit out of my face Like it's the job clock in an hour And how are we the ones who powered these machines And we can't get nothin' done, we controlled by kings and queens The unseen son, the one in the attic Hope the dream don't come true America, she loves you Without us who would back up the groceries Or price up the clothes that you normally don't see On average joes, oh that's me Little dirtbag rapper and glad to be I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition I keep on spittin' but no one listens I must drop fire, I can not wait for a fall This is our only hope, this is a war This is a war *Every picture you see is a reflection of marketing The targeting of certain audiences as only a major corporation could It's simple: They feed you shit. Just stop eating it, genius. Run up in the Universal Office and find Doug Morris Pound him in his office, his life ain't real pretty Like bitches that sing choruses These forces are forcin' us to try to relate In spite of what they lead you to believe in the first place Can't move in the city 'cause it's packed so tight Everybody up in my business, dissin' the lyrics I write Dismissin' my raps off their shoulder like the never happened Actin' so thuggish like they tough like Tinactin It's rubbish, it's all bubble gum to me Nobody bumpin' me stoppin' by your record company I'ma flatten mc's with platinum cds You see these two fists? They each got mt Tons of Budweiser, got balls of steel wire Like a sidewalk and supposedly ya'll are keepin' it real But mostly ya just provoke and poke at me And hopefully you remember your jokes to me I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition I keep on spittin' but no one listens I must drop fire, I can not wait for a fall This is our only hope, this is a war This is a war *If??? Rap in you was approved by tests you'd see it's got nothin' to do with you. The real gangstas are old white men putting these records out. Hip-hop? That's the last thing they give a fuck about.* By any means necessary I'm buryin' advesary Every vocal performance it's important to stary vary If you wanna feed all then you got motorcall And I'm on the line, we can meet at the grassy knoll at ten Maybe rap was never hip-hop to them Seems like it's just a cash crop to them So don't claim you spit it proper then This war must never end I can no longer pretend to be down If I die in a battle that's fine I got a potion named Revolution number 9 I got a heart that beats for the art This is hip-hop for the love Not a 1 on the charts I like my hip-hop dropped in tip-top condition I keep on spittin' but no one listens I must drop fire, I can not wait for a fall This is our only hope, this is a war This is a war This is a war, this is a war This is a war, this is a war This is a war, this is a war
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