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lyrics
Dumb youth
Now let me get this straight, I'm not a man with a plan
My lyrics aren't so great, and I aint even got one fan
Or should I start again, I’ll just pick up a pen
And start writing all the things I can, do you understand
Right, I'll have another try, third time lucky
Mum shouts “dinners ready!” CAN YOU BRING IT UP TO ME?
She don’t understand telling me I’m wasting my time
I’m trying to prove her wrong but this high grade is stopping me
Fuck bitches blast thugs steal gold blunts rolled
Try to look tough, look hard look cold
Get away from real life, maybe just for a minute
Watch a gangster film, and pretend that I'm in it
Talk about "being real" and having all the money
I don't even have a job, so money comes from mummy
I don’t have a flashy car or vast amounts of clothes
But let’s say that I do, when I'm chillin with my bros
Abide by the stereotype given to the genre
I'll blast you with my AK then fucking bomb all of ya
Throw away money like it’s riddled with diseases
So much power, girls look at me and go week in the knees
Gold teeth, gold chain, you know what it’s all about
Everybody looks and want a piece I aint got no doubt
Look at her standing in the corner giving me the eye
Stick out my chest with a swag, go over say hi
Hey honey, how you doing, nice to meet you name is Bob
Let’s cut to the chase I know you want it, here’s a key fob
To my hotel room taxis outside and paid for
I’d never taken that much mace to the face before
Take a step back
Sit your arse down and listen
You can take action
Or talk shit and complain
Cuz I'm about through with this street mentality
Look at yourself, walking around like you’ve been through life
All by yourself, If school aint your priority
Then son, you better think about life and where you want to be
Ten years from now, standing on a stage
To one hundred thousand people all screaming out your name
They've travelled from miles to hear you tell your story
But not at the rate you're going, boy you better believe me
You’re lazy, unskilled addicted to PlayStation
And there’re many clones of you all over the nation
You aint got a girl, your left hand needs no motivation
The only time you put down the pad’s for babe station
Dumb youth picking wars over area codes
Over guns drugs cars money bitches and hoes
But you’re blind and struggle to see the bigger picture
Cuz you’re letting the hype you created act as divider
Running around sticking fingers up shouting fuck the pigs
But you don’t even know where the real problem begins
Your ignorance is feeding the bigger agenda
You feel like a gangster when your face is printed on the paper
Young man, beard, brown skin name is Abdullah
Intelligence believe that he’s a suicide bomber
In some way shape or form he’s linked with al-Qaida
Out on a mission to blow up every single none believer
And that’s the idea behind creating mass-hysteria
Injecting fear into the mind of public through media
And that’s how they avoid our unity in an instant
Cuz when divided we don’t stand a chance to show resistance
Take a step back
Sit your arse down and listen
You can take action
Or talk shit and complain
Stro Elliot dives into the KPM library music archives and emerges with the materials to create this scorching beat tape. Bandcamp New & Notable Nov 26, 2023
Booming, braggadocio-laced rhymes from two New York's finest, topped off with features from Immortal Technique, Vinnie Paz and others. Bandcamp New & Notable Jun 17, 2020
