I live a double-life of political philosophyīut revolution follows me, the struggle for equalityĪgainst the morally bankrupt, claiming to be born again Is best exemplified in its foreign policy dichotomy Unidos por fin! (Finally, united!) We seize the time, free at last, learn to love, live to fight, not just for me, but for others, teach the new blood, and live for freedom!ĪIDS epidemic crack era fractured a nation Trying to dead us through cancer, through chemical testing! Revolutionary gangsters in your presence, The medium figures choking the four five, Guess the local authorities to be the Ho Chi Minh trail,įrom robbing bodegas and boosting like low-lives, We vocal minorities, no pookie man trail,
This Greenspan system wanna dent my activism,Įstilo machetero get my people out the ghetto,Ģ1st century grito de alar estate quieto (stay calm), I'm a free man so I changed my mannerisms, Prison to the bricks, but I'm stuck in this global house arrest, Walk my oasis spacing jungle behind bars, The world got a template, to turn us into inmates caged in a state pen,īonded to slave ships to punch in your timecard, I came to my senses, un esclavo no soy (I am not a slave), that is not my past, I came to know me and my people, red brown and black, helped me paint the future. We not a gang or a clique, we Young Lords! If they want it, we gonna take ‘em to war This is the life of your forefathers that fought hardįour corners of backyards, power in numbers (To make a peace) honest (I play for keeps) Of how they try to divide us (to make us weak) So when I’m free I’ll teach and spread the speech Tattoos of my flag, PR pride Jesus Christīut I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy I’m stronger and much quicker I appreciate the gainīuilding with my a-alike, brown power reunite Thoughts of my freedom lingering in my brain
Knuckle push-ups on the concrete, till I bleed out the pain My spirit sharper than lasers they used to build pyramids They got me locked in a cell where I’m feeling like an experiment In la calle, a collision course with incarceration, consumed by the lies of the streets, they were an illusion but I awoke caged like an animal The hustle’s in my veins, I could bleed in a potĪnd make a soup that’d go for 10 dollars a pop I had them bags packed until they damn near open
I don’t care if it was pink, as long as they still smoking
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