Steal This Album

[boots]
We don't make no damn mickey mouse music!

* pam the funkstress cuts "i shot the sherriff" *

F.t.s. with the coup, whatchu wanna do?
F.t.s., coup

Chorus: boots, clap, vexx (repeat 2x)

Undas, cops, pigs and shit
They be gettin on my nerves i'm bout to have a fit
I need land, a place where no money is spent
I'll kick back, and live life immaculate (you say)

[vexx]
Exchange data, no contact, no matta
Eternally, you'll find, information to be, god sent
The soul, my body's bein spent like some dope shit
All the way from across the atlantic ocean
See i can't help but talk about the way my people been raped
Right about now, i'm bout to set some shit straight
To all you late bloomers and early consumers, ignore the rumors
Who has the made the whole nation backslide, to homicide
Almost and damn near, genocide
We all need to check our soul inside
Have you ever seen a human body landslide?
How bout some tanks doin a driveby
Or a bomber droppin napalm from way high?
We long live, but sometimes we got ta die
The whole world's about to bow man, that ain't no lie
You betta find yo'self befo' yo'self takes all your time

[boots]
One mo' gen now

Chorus

[clap]
Bump you.. it got to be.. hot to me..
A cop to me.. could burn in hell
We re-bel.. we don't swell like the pressure
Tester.. even leave the best of shakin and
Shivering.. whooo.. icy cold.. delivery
Deliberately slippery when wet
You moist yet? you check out
The hop-hippin.. it got you flippin while it's slippin
The hippity hop, hit you, cause it get you
So god damn krunk, bang that wild shit; read:
God damn bump, ransom stylist, thick
Rich like 69 dollar shit
Crazy like the spice girls, finger lickin, kickin
Sa-vory, fla-vory expedition mission
Free the land africa, africa listen..
Listen..

[boots]
Hah.. bring it back now

Chorus

[boots]
Can you feel it? i can feel it
..
Now if this party was a class i'd be a teacher
It's f.t.s. and the coup, a double feature
Now if this party was a car i'd be the driver
I'm rappin third, the mic is smellin like saliva
The emperor, that motherfucker's .. ass naked
We'll take you higher than when you had yo' last dank hit
It's not surprisin that when folks start to uprisin
There's police on the horizon, they been there all along
They just good at they disguisin, the po-po's supposed to keep
The peace they gotta make the bosses money increase
You never seen the police break up a strike
By hittin the boss with his baton pipe
And you ain't never gon' see one
But when we take over it's gon' be poppin like re-run, huh
Boots from the coup, lightin the dark like a toker
Much love to my folkers, all aces and jokers

Chorus

F.t.s., the coup
A-hah

* beavis and butthead sample *
[butthead] whoa! uh-heheh-heheh, uh-heheh
That kicked ass!
[beavis] yeah yeah heh yeah
That was fly

* dj pam the funkstress starts cuttin up "that was fly" *

Chorus: boots (repeat 2x)

20,000 gun salute, get rowdy like you got a substitute
This slug's for newt - shut your mouth, don't pollute
Army of down motherfuckers, shit we tryin to recruit!

[boots]
See now we're talkin systematic, mack mechanics, decomposin
Chosen, representatives, from the ho's been known to act wit
Pimp theatrics, a tactic necessary
In fact they wanna have us buyin from the commissary
This commentary's for my folks under involuntary servitude
Cause bosses don't be servin you your monetary
Pervin you like rum'n'dairy pulsin through your capillaries
Some inherit green, the rest just get our folks to bury
I'm abolitionary, wishin the judiciary
Say this year for merry merry, free the penitentiary!
Peoples gon' rumble as long as stomachs grumble
And crack pipes tumble over asphault that's crumbled
Hundreds come in bundles and, hop is mixed with funnels
Cause babies wit shoes too small gon' stumble
This composition is sedition, opposition to the rulin class
Wishin they could detonate us hooked to the ignition
Keep my slacks creased to punch the clock for the beast
As my rent don't cease, his pockets get obese
Can't have inner peace without havin a piece
When the stepped on step up, we let the dragon release

Chorus

[boots]
Disaster! the filthy rich bastards wanna milk yo' ass
Faster, ask fuh, no salvation comin from the damn pastor
Old ladies play canasta, under roofs of cracker plaster
Little kids dive in the trash for discarded dutchmasters
Dead potnahs on mural walls
Homeless kids takin baths up in gas station urinals
Shit the system can't cure it all
If everybody had a job then stock value's sure to fall
Hundred million neck slashes, so these facists
Can make sho' that they check cashes, let's get massive
Wage struggle as direct classes, on just how we gonna
Overthrow they bitch asses, give whiplashes
From the force as we make it tight, and ignite
The flames of takin over daily life, make it a right
To have food, threads and homestead
And pac bell won't ever cut your phone dead -- we own it!
But these business that love payin minimum wage
Ain't gon' let you take they shit unless you showin the gauge
And if you do it by yourself they gon' put you in a cage
If you in a rage, please meet me on the same page, with a

Chorus

(chorus)
This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, i got love for the underdog
*repeat chorus*

I raise this glass for the ones who die meaninglessly
And the newborns who get fed intravenously
Somebody's mom caught a job and a welfare fraud case
When she breathe she swear it feels like plastic wrap around her face
Lights turned off and its the third month the rent is late
Thoughts of being homeless, crying till you hyperventilate
Despair permeates the air then sets in your ear
The kids play with that one toy they learned how to share
Coming home don't never seem to be a celebration
Bills they piled up on the coffee table like they're decorations
Big ol' spoons of peanut butter, big ass glass of water
Makes the hunger subside, save the real food for your daughter
You feel like swingin haymakers at a moving truck
You feel like laughing so it seems like you don't give a fuck
You feel like getting so high you smoke a whole damn crop
You feel like crying but you think that you might never stop
Homes with no heat stiffen your joints like arthritis
If this was fiction, it'd be easier to write this
Some folks try to front like they so above you
They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you

*chorus*

There's certain tricks of the trade to try and hault your defeat
Like taking tupperware to an "all you can eat"
Returning used shit for new saying you lost your receipt
And writing four figure checks when your accounts deplete
Then all your problems pile up about a mile up
Thinkin about a partner you can dial up to help you out this foul stuff
Whole family sleepin on a futon while you're clippin coupons
Eatin salad tryin to get full off the croutons
'crosstown, the situation is identical
Somebody's getting strangled by the system and its tentacles
Misconceptions raise questions to be solved
Alot of b-boys are broke, alot of homeless got jobs
You can make 8 bones an hour till you pass out and still be assed out
Most pyramid schemes don't let you cash out
They say this generation makes the harmony pray
But crime rises consistent with the povery rate
You take the workers and jobs, you're gonna have murders and mobs
A gang of preachers screamin sermons over murmurs and sobs
Saying pray for a change from the lord above you
They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you

*chorus*

You like this song cause it relates, it's you in this rhyme
We go to stores that only let us in two at a time
We live in places where it costs to get your check cashed
Arguements about money usually drown out the tec blasts
Work six days a week, can't sleep saturdays though
Muscles tremblin like a pager when the battery's low
And you just don't know where the years went
Although every long shift feels like a year spent
And you can write your resume, but it wouldn't even mention
All the life lessons learned doing six years of detention
Or how you learned the police was just some handicappers
On the ground next to broken glass and candy wrappers
Now don't accept my collects on the phone
Just hit me at the house so i know i ain't alone
And we can chop it up about this messed up system
Homies that's been killed, how we always gonna miss them
It's almost impossible survivin on this fraction
Sip a 40 to the brain for the chemical reaction
You gotta hustle cause they're tryin to push and shove you
I'll tear this motherfucker up since i really love you

*chorus*

[del]
It's the repo man! reposession is my occupation
It's not my fault you facin foreclosure, i told ya
I'm just an agent, workin for the man
And his manuscript say you owe him for this land
Don't cry to me, and don't lie to me
Actin like you ain't home, fakin on the phone
You shoulda thought about that when you bought the benzy
You missed a few increments
Now we gotta come and get yo' shit
If you slip on the payments
I get paid to make sure that you pay rent
Or get out, throw all your clothes in the streets
Frozen meats, out your refridgerator
Then my boys come back and get it later with the forklift
Heh, we don't care how hard you worked, we takin yo' shit
It's too late, your payment's way past your due date
You couldn't hide from me, even with a new face
Or plastic surgery, your debt's outstandin
I don't care about your family, don't hand me
No excuses, you know it's useless, no one's stoppin me
Just get off the property before i bring the cops with me
Possibly, this could turn into a criminal act
Gimme your fax machine, playstation in the basement
Adjacent, to the big screen television
You can't tell the system no, we gotta get the dough
The company want they g's, or the keys
To the convertible, and hey, nothin personal, okay?
I'm just doin my job (you know?)
Collectin on your debts, now you're losin a wad
Bruisin your wallet, whatever in your pocketbook
All get took, to my agency, then they payin me
It ain't phasin me, that's my thing
When i mob off witcha shit, listen to me sing

La la la la la la la, la la la la la *repeat 8x*

[boots]
*thck* one, paycheck from sleepin on the street
*tchka* two/too, many bills my scrill don't meet
*tchka* three day notice from the landlord on the seat
Fo-fo', caliber shots ain't discrete
But motherfuckers still jack frequent, no secret
Cause they shit be delinquent
And on closer inspection, reposession collection
Motivates birth protection in the brokest section
In other words, the ghetto
Repo man, pullin strings like giupetto
Squeeze two at him, let go
Cause i just gotta be real
I'm tired of informercials with them five-year payment deals
See i was sleepin on the carpet in my apartment
When i heard my car ignition cause somebody sparked it
So i run all the way down the hallway full throttle
Don't give in is my motto, so i bust him with a bottle
He screamin, "whatchu gon' pay me with?"
Then he started laughin singin crazy shit

[del] la la la la la la la, la la la la la

I said, "shut the fuck up," and then i banked him in the jaw
But that was no use, even though he skidaddled
Bill collectors make my phone rattle, tell my kids don't tattle
When you pick up the receiver, i'm sick with a fever
You don't know where i am either
Even hillbillies at a party linedancin
Get they ford trucks with poor financing
Banks that give the loan figure - damn, in the worst case
We makin money cause we had it in the first place!
And where was it that they got that cash from?
You when you deposit it from bustin yo' ass
Well two weeks after that last altercation
I noticed my front lock had a slight alteration
My tv was gone and out the window from my room
I heard the repo man sing his devious tune, it went

[del] la la la la la la la, la la la la la *repeat 8x*

Chorus: boots (repeat 2x)

It ain't indonesia, china white
Purple-haired thai, big h delight
Take my shit we gon' have to fight
I'm always rollin' dirty so be actin' right

[boots]
I'm bombing uppercut swipes as my knuckles ignire
More strikes than a teachin' staff's fight for pay hikes
Like cleats wit' spikes i clings to my turf tight
Get, low like a smurf might earth is my birthright
You salivate at the sound of the bell
I come sick and make your lymph nodes swekk
Nickel-plated teeth and tongue as well so you can tell
When i'm shootin' off my mouth the politicians start to bail
When i shoot, fuhrman scoot i'm yellin', "gimme all the loot!"
Bourgeoise pimpin' me now my digits don't compute
Chillin' in a house of ill repute
But is you wearin' canvasols or purple-pinstripe suits?
Fact of earth and comets: macroeconomics
Yak until you vomit, or come up on a lick
Sweat oozin' my skin just to get another fin'
Changed my name to valerie so i can get wic
Savage storm troopers be less than seducive
Jailtime producin', silly lilliputians!
This gulliver, come equipped with a fo'-fo'
And twelve comrades in a box chev' fo' do'
Skirtin' down the strip with a mission to render
And we don't give a fuck if we missin a fender
Mix it in a blender, you ain't home return to sender
Can't be saved by cokenders or a public defender
This ain't no macrobiotic chemical colonic
This politicalsymphoniclyricalnarcotic
Somethin' much mo' potent that we plotted
Come and get some, if you ain't got it

Chorus

[boots]
Ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-exhilirating!
I accuse you of nigga-hating!
And exploitating for profit making.. don't cop a plea
Cause i'm b-double-o-t, from the c-o-u the p
I feel my epedermis at it's firmest just befo' a skirmish
If you want green like kermit keep it heated like a thermos
Aspired to be famous, puttin fire in their anus
Made the rulin' class hate us more than child sup-port payments
To rosemary's baby, shick-a-shick-shady!!
Pissin' in your gumbo and they tell you, "it's all gravy!"
See you can't trust a big grip and a smile
And i slang rocks - but palestinian style
Now there's a rumble in the jungle never mumble though i humble
Couple rappers took a tumble but my folks still want to rumble
Who's pimpin', your bundle? i'm _fly_ like, seth brundle
If you're snitchin' to columbo we gon' drop you like a fumble
Now what you make is point-oh-one percent of what the boss make
And what the boss take is keepin' us from livin' great
If this ain't straight you think you wanna sit down and negotiate
You better have a crew to help you shutdown his estate
Don't get frustrated, discombobulated
Don't stand and debate it, get a mob and take it!
Til then it's food stamps, vouchers, mildew-smellin' couches
Overturned garbage cans wit' no oscar the grouches
Makin' money sellin plastic pouches
As mystikal would say, "my flo' is covered wit' roaches!"
Absotively, posolutely, can't do without it
The shipment is delivered, come and get it if you bout it!

Chorus

[bridge]
Systematic playa-hation
Green paper complications
Got my ass an education
Can i get an application??

[boots]
Pam the funkstress

* pam cuts n scratches prince: "thank you for a funky time.." *

[boots]
It's kinda funky..
Mat machine-gun kelly!

[boots]
Well, he was smilin' like a vulture as he rolled up the horticulture
Ignited it, and said, "i hope the vapors don't insult ya"
What i replied denied, but he mixin weed and hop
His head was noddin' up and down like he agreed a lot
Bored, said, "we need a plot," i comply, "let's leave the spot"
Hopped in the granada, he's impressed by the beat i got
His name is "hay-zoos" but his pimp name is "gee-zus"
Slapped a hoe to pieces with his plastic prosthesis
"nigga don't you know that i'm your daddy?" said he
This is true, plus he schooled me for my mackin' degree
"never plea, try not to flee, make niggaz pee when you stick around"
This man my momma had found taught me to put it down
I press the gas to the ground to show that i'm a hound
Makin' sho' that get rubber sound is heard throughout the town
Thirty years ago, jesus could pull a hoe quick
But now he 50 and his belly hangs lower than his dick
Philosophy that he spit stuck in my memory chips
And now he puttin' in a disk of gladys knight and the pips
Then that shit starts to skip, he said, "somebody musta scratch it"
Put the 40 to his lips and poured the contents down the hatchet
Well since my adolescense, cause of his pimp lessons
Smack my woman in the dental just for askin' silly questions
Relationship reduction to either rock the box or suction
Ain't got no close potnahs, socially i cain't function
From the pen he would scribe, on how to survive:
"don't be microsoft, be macintosh with a hard drive"
Used to tell me all the time to keep a bitch broke
Did i mention that my momma was his number one hoe?
Clunked the 40 on the flo' and placed his palm on the dash
And wheezed out, "c'mon man, make this motherfucker mash!"
Ain't gon' mash too fast, cause my tags ain't right
Me and jesus the pimp in a '79 granada last night

Chorus: *sung* (2x)

Oakland do you wanna ride?
I can't hear you! oakland do you wanna ride tonight?

[boots]
City lights from far way can makeyou drop yo' jaw
Sparklin' like sequins on a transvestite at mardi gras
There's beauty in the cracks of the cement
When i was five i hopped over them wherever we went to prevent
Whatever it was that could break my momma's back
Little did i know that it would roll up in a cadillac
And matta-fact, she couldn't see him like a cataract
And on the track, she went from beautiful to battleaxe
And back at home, she would cry into her pillow
Vomit in the commode, i was six years old
I would crawl onto her lap and we would hug and hold
She asked me what i thought of jesus when he broke off some bread
I said, "he missin' a arm, and he seem like a pee-pee head"
She said, "don't cuss," and my teeth to go brush
And get ready for bed, and the toilet to flush
With tears in my momma's eyes, i was her everything
Before she went out on the stroll
She'd tuck me into bed and sing:

You're much too beautiful for words (4x)

I see the red and white lights as the ambulance flies
Reminds me of midnight in a dopefiend's eyes
And my 9-year-old self as paramedics leave
Left to ball my eyes out on a neighbor's sleeve
To make illustrations that are clear and clean
I'll take you two hours back before this scene:
Early in the morning when the sun starts to creep
When the birds start to chirp and crackheads go to sleep
Moms was comin' in i heard her keys go clink
Wearin' nothin' but pumps, bikini, and fake mink
Even though she served, for fifty dollars-a-pop
Hardly had enough for rent after jesus re-copped
That day the landlady got her rent befo' he got his knot
Slammed momma's head against the front bolt lock
Then the pump wit one arm done harm
Reached back and plowed into her head like a farm
Never saw the act, locked in the back, i was cussin'
Heard the blap blap of tewnty headcrack percussion
And body blows, her body froze from bolo's to the spine
I was hysterically cryin', all she could do was whine
She didn't even have the strength to say, "i love you boo"
But i said it to her and she knew that i knew
She was dead by the time the ambulance got on the case
But i never will forget the plastic hand stuck in her face
Stop at the intersection to ask jesus 'bout directions
"s go to frisco.." (i got very friendly vocal inflections)
Mob a left at macarthur to continue in flight
Me and jesus the pimp in a '79 granada last night

Chorus

[boots]
The rain dropped giant pearls, god was pissin' on the world
Or that old man who was snorin' rolled on over and earled
My temperatyre gayge read "cold and blistery"
Spinnin' wheels made each piece of asphault history
This was jesus debut out the penitentiary
Fifteen years, but it seem like a century
See, he went in the pen for some other murder drama
Twelve years old when i wrote him quote i wanna be a pimp comma
You accidentally killed my mom, no playa hation points
You know how bitches act, shit exclamation points
First it was a set up move, then it was the truth
His letters were the only thing i had as a youth
But his lopsided game, see, was really counterfeit
So my little son dominic thinks that i'm a dick
Cause i was runnin' 'round like a little baby jesus
To me women had to be saints, hoes, or skeezers
And i don't think that it's gon' end til we make revolution
But who gon' make the shit if we worship prostitution?
Ain't no women finna die for the same ol' conclusion
Put they life on the line so some other pimp could use 'em
Pulled into a vacant lot, the road to recovery
Pulled out my pistol as we brushed against the shrubbery
Jesus said, "why the hell you pointin' a gat?"
So i pulled a piece of game i could use out the hat
I said, "this trip is over, we ain't finna ride on
This is for my mental and my momma that i cried on
Microsoft motherfuckers let bygones be bygones
But since i'm macintosh, i'ma double click your icons"
He struggled for life, then gave up the fight
Me and jesus the pimp in a '79 granada last night

Chorus