Trying not to see the worst in all my peers,
But this reckless paranoia’s got me double fisting beers,
One tip is twenty years,
There’s no time for that!
Keep an ace up the sleeve,
And a trick in the hat,
Only 500 bucks for a cell wiretap,
Selling hope by the sack, all light fade’s black,
Wall meets back, ya’ track record is fucked,
And you’re stuck, blame it on luck, or that the system’s corrupt,
Can’t help but agree, cause there’s way too much money,
In these substances felonies to leave these motherfuckers free,
What I won’t be, another statistic,
Uplifted from my shackles in locations unspecific,
High time we fixed this, so many hypocrites,
It’s sick, the Earth is heating up from bullshit they emit,
Trying to get a grip on this buffet line of justice,
Into flames they thrust us, In God We Trust,
One nation united by incarceration of population,
Never been to prison? Be patient.
Bridge –
Doc Strange:
I pledge no allegiance to the prison state,
We are one nation of United Inmates.
Chorus –
Doc Strange:
Living my life while the pendulum swings,
I am more than just a number, I’m a human being,
Busting my ass and this check barely brings,
Anything home but a hill of beans (fuck this job!),
No sleep at night as I toss and I scream,
What a nightmare this American Dream!
What a nightmare this American Dream!
Doc Strange /w J3:
What a nightmare, this American Dream!
Jimmy James:
Twenty-two now,
Damn wow,
I guess it’s time for me to be my own man now,
Provide for mine and my future little man’s mouth,
Go get it myself, can’t rely on no handouts,
But shit, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
When I’m a D-grade away from getting kicked outta’ school,
So I got with a crew, got a pen, hopped in the booth,
And used it as my altar, so I could give y’all the truth,
Cause just working for small fees just ain’t working out for me,
So I damn near do anything,
Sell my soul and the shoe-strings,
And plenty poor folks can rap,
Some shitty rappers can sell,
Then I’ma be the kinda’ cat that does both of ‘em well,
Cause in this Hell where we dwell, where sex sells at retail,
It’s safe to say little Sally ain’t just selling sea shells,
Gee well, (Hey, come over here),
Even educated and dedicated there’s no guarantee you’ll make it.
Chorus /w J3 -
Brad:
(Yeah!)
Young B… Rad driven hungry,
By all the shit I done seen on my Samsung Screen,
Got us programmed to choose the better-known brand,
Went to Kay’s to cope some ice, left with a sno-cone stand,
Prices stay rising,
Not that that’s surprising,
Somebody’s gotta’ cover all the fucking advertising,
Not the shareholders or the board of execs,
It’s you and I, drowning in debt, up to our necks,
Raises in my wages can’t keep pace with inflation,
Any penny of my savings facing tax evasion,
I know they plan to snipe me like Wesley,
Or slip a lil’ something in my bottle like Presley,
Jimi sipping red rum, they called it red wine,
But my doctor say a glass a day’ll make me feel fine,
Conspiracy theories, master design,
United Inmates of America, cell-block nine!
[Cell-door slam]
Chorus /w J3 –
Outro –
J3:
I said what a nightmare this American Dream!
What a nightmare this American Dream!
What a nightmare this American Dream!
I said what a nightmare! Oh-oh-oh!
This American Dream!
