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Vanity Slaves
Uh-uh-uh, what up?Uh, I'm tryna, what up?Uh-uh, I'm tryna get somethingUh-uh-uh, I'm tryna, what up?I say, what up?Uh-uh, I'm trynaSometimes I wanna leave, sometimes I wanna crySometimes I hate to bear the truth, sometimes I wanna lieSometimes I wanna school the youthSometimes I wanna rideSometimes I wanna not think, sometimes I wanna vibeSometimes I wanna bump tribe and zone outThis song bout a young boyThat's going wild inside, when my world collideWith your world where your girl and your kids resideWe kill the facades, we feel free to flyWe're birds that reserve in the charismatic skyI care about my pride too much, if my clothes is newIf my ride is plush, if my hair is cutIf my diamonds is crushedI look in the mirror, I'm trendy enough? wrongInsecurity roams the black communityHomes where kids must have jewelryThe high school female need earrings and detailsSo she can be cool to be amongst popularityThe various name brands that reach the price scanThat's not about the right priceBut more like the right scamTo rule us all, confuse us allHit the bank within five minutes and then withdrawNow let's draw the picture of a rapper with a chainIn a range that is not paid forMy cousin from the south said he just bought him a houseThat lives around his neck like a white collarSo why fast forward? then I rewindA time machine can help me double back to slavery timesPicking cotton from a field that a white man ownThe blacker you areFarther you from the white man's homeNegro spiritual zones gave us some type of sanityBefore your vanity they parted our familiesThey put us in hundred-degree shadeAnd outside we bathedThe more we were afraid, the more they made rulesAnd trapped our minds in the cageOur freedom was so fakeCouldn't see it with the eyes of tracee ross, uh!And school was exempt, see we couldn't have smartsAnd a smirk could get you hurtWound diversed from a scarFour-hundred years of nothingFour-hundred years of sufferingFour-hundred years of tears and tribulation, miseducationSee what we facing is now coming, back to the rootsRemember whips on our backAnd if we would run they would shoot?Call us niggers and figured that we'd never lived in pursuitOf happiness, we captured theseFeelings in things that we doThought it's abstinence in slavery, but we made it come toA modern perspective, my shoe selection gotta be louieHer handbag gotta be gucci, it's fake then she foobieShe still bad though, and her fake gucciAin't that bad thoughWe filling up the gas for rolliesUpgrade to twenty-sixes, out there riding kobesMy cousin from the south, slavery start in the southAnd I bet yaHe overcompensates for the life of his ancestorsSo blame it on the four-hundred years we never sawThe reason why the next four-hundred we gotta flossSlavesUh, I say the four-hundred years we never had nothingBarely had clothes on our backIt's the reason why when we get a little bit of changeWe over-exaggerate on our living expensesSo if you get your first big check and you copA chain before you buy a houseYou're a vanity slaveIf you're a female and you got four, fiveSix rings on your fingerFour holes in your left ear and a nose piercingYou're a vanity slaveIf you got an '02 monte carlo with twenty-fo's on itAnd on the back of the window it says "get on my level hoe"You're a vanity slaveWe all vanity slavesAnd with that being said, can somebodyPlease tell me where the mall at?I'm not from around hereHey ali, where we at? idaho?Yeah nigga, you know the first of the monthYou know them checks come inI'm tryna get something, but what up?
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