letra de life of the proletariat - chris phoenix
[verse 1]
to live in the world is work
working since birth
existence plagued by whoever did best, whoever did worst
happiness comes in waves and spurts
story of ham
black skin seen as a curse
the oddity
black bodies commodities only used for labor
story since slavery when baby skin sold for gators
you love capitalism cause you programmed to paper
do foolish behavior, sellout your people for the taste of wealth to savor
later wake up and realize that life itself is corporatize
institutions used to industrialize you, get ostracized too
maybe even get stares
billionaires don’t care cause with hard work
hey, you too could be there
but really, just silly
the privilege of white males who daddies run cities
we behind the burners taking the thunder like kd
but maybe i am just lazy
cause lately my mental means more than being rich but crazy
what is wealth to a man whose worth is what one pays me
what’s jesus when i know, money the only thing that can save me
what’s adulthood when still subjugated as a baby
what’s freedom in america if you’re poor and black
what’s power if you constantly getting pimped slapped
that’s capitalism, what i call that
that’s capitalism, what i call that
[verse 2]
the intricacies of the bourgeoisie
imposing its will on proletariats
majority of wealth inherited
talking points is parroted
controlling overseas and means of production
less regulations on wealth than reproduction
work extra hours for ends meat
or have to sleep on the street
but preach black lives matter and keeping the peace
hard when your existence predicated on being elite
i’m not, plead the fifth
but, american exceptionalism a myth, doesn’t exist
hitched to outdated notions
coasting on what was passed down
focused on adam smith’s opus
but a change gotta come that’s word to otis
turn our pain into comedy like comedians
give us rock to gun fights
the feel of palestinians
to shock an electric eel
and still save my people like gideon
ritalin in my body
just to work for that million
(just to work for that million)
[verse 3]
son of an immigrant she came here to work
come home, body aching
mind gone berserk
she just wanna rest, but gotta pay the bills first
that was instilled in me, pursuit of money cause without that
on the streets looking bummy
presentation everything, not to blame my mom, tho
she’d give me anything it’s just subcontext
never given anything unless you’re so flawless, lawless if you try to reinvent the wheel
not preaching, but sounds like going off on a spiel
the man who come back from the war with his limbs tore applying for benefits, but they say he can’t get more
denied a feeling, something a lot of us felt before
no reparations, compensation for being slaves that built this country
the us the real m-o-b, james, buntry
i love money, even though it doesn’t love me
try to get it at the expense of being a jerk
so, in order to get the check expect to get worked
so we can smile later, but gotta cry first
take pills to numb the pain away
feelings on layaway, everyday
wake from the dead like lazarus
the gap between wealth and poverty, measured by happiness
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