sample -- "Blacks are too fuckin broke to be republicans", Ice Cube

(cut and scratched by DJ Pam the Funkstress)

Verse One: Boots

In this land I can't stand or sit

and not get shit thrown up in my face

A brotha never gets his props

I'm doin bellyflops at the department of waste

And everyday I pulls a front so nobody pulls my card

I got a mirror in my pocket and I practice lookin hard

I'm lookin behind me beside me ahead of me

There'll be no feet makin tracks here instead of me

But I can't disregard just what the news says to me

I'm twenty-one, so I've reached my life expectancy

At any minute I could be in some shit that kills my skinny ass

From motherfuckers doin the sellout strut or probably Oakland task

My relationship with OPD has been like one big diss

Long arm of the law, grips my dick so tight it's hard to even piss

So I forgot ain't even got a pot to do it in

Up at the church they're tellin me it's because I live in sin

So I grin, but nevertheless my mind won't dwell

I must be trippin cause I thought I was livin in hell

Capitalism is like a spider, the web is getting tighter

I'm struggling like a fighter, just to bust loose

It's like a noose asyphyxiation sets in

Just when I think I'm free it seems to me the spider steps in

This web is made of money made of greed made of me

Of what I have become in a parasite economy

Verse Two: E Roc

In the winter there's a splinter with the smell of the rain

And the scent of the street, but all I smell is the pain

Of a brotha who's a hustler and he's stuck to the grind

Of a sista who's a hooker gotta sell her behind

Desperation makes her brotha get a little more bold

The circumstance gets deeper when it's damp a