[Verse 1 Novatore] Sell your labor get the dollar, serve the fast food Hustle legitimate dont wanna see the clink Bang the clock like a pervert with a time fetish 6am sugar drinking dishes in the sink Face frozen winter steez hit the corner store Maybe call the coroner and try to book a date My fate was sealed when I found my car was paralyzed Time to call the master let him know Im coming late Swipe the time card but not the one clenched in the fist I swiped the microchip they planted up inside my wrist Little shits got me working while I make them rich I with someone would build a bomb and blow this fucking place to bits Mind numb sometimes I feel like Im just doing time No identity, justin building products on the line The more you work the more you hate your life thats what it seems Factory of broken dreams, manufacture dollar signs Cho 2xs Punch the clock 95 thats how we get by Wage labor just a new form of slavery We shed tears for the passing of the former years We spin the gears while it kills us psychologically [Verse 2 Lord Lhus] Fuck your 95 I wanna survive and live my life Not slave inside the system conditioned and think its right When its all wrong, backwards, hustlin for the enemy The streets is within me but the man wanna get rid of me And all my thoughts, a free mind never enslaved But enraged by the masters make me work everyday ??????? but they say its a debt Taxing your work for a check you dont earn til your dead Im not a sheep im a wolf in human skin, Til the end of when the revolution starts to begin When the men they got their mind straight and working for a cause Not workin with the law, the corruption is all in all So ima keep it real keep it raw You know the deal its Lhus the only artist who really say how he feel This is real life im not a slave, I dont behave Ima say fuck the system til the day im in my grave.. what? Cho 2xs [Verse 3 Novatore] Went to the bosses house and rang the bell like 50 times I put a package on the side walk and disappeared He left the porch as expected to investigate I slit his throat and took his cranium for souvenir Picked up the body threw it in the trunk of his Bugatti Woulda took the maserati could even find the key Drove to the factory with leather gloves and molotovs Burned that shit right to the ground, grabbed the burner, called the cops I planned this shit out so thoroughly like architects Rounded up some wood just before his last supper I made a crucifix and nailed him down like jesus christ Head on a stick played some tball with the louie slugger Thats the payback motherfucker can you picture this? I took a blade and dug the chip out from my bloody wrist You better save the page that documents this spectacle Cuz shit will be collectible like pink floyd on picture disc
lhus, novatore, 2xs, cho, factory