Mr. Lif - Live From The Plantation Lyrics
{*alarm ringing*"Oh my *****ing god man, ahhh. *****ing serious"Jesus Christ, man. already?Man, time flies like a mother*****er."Rise and shine!Yet another day to toss awayWhat does my clock display?It says eightShit, I'm late for work again, so thenI dip with my pad and my penStep into the work place with my work faceWince at my time card cuz I'm scarredMad cuz I sacrifice my day and gets meA trifling hourly wage of six fifty, niftyNow I'm off to slave quartersWith a whole bunch of other people's sons and daughtersWorking so they can be mothers and fathersLaboring real hard, hoping the boss offersMore petty cash to his bums and paupersKissing his ass cuz they hoping they prosperHere's the math:You work a thirty a day, awayThe government takes a thirty a check, correctYou go home and drink cuz you don't getAn ounce of respect, and your spirit is wreckedLife is a gift to be enjoyed, every second every minuteIt's temporary, not infiniteYet I find myself looking at the clockhoping for the day to fly by, so I ask myself "Why?"I'm doing this remedial work for second gradersI'm an educator with mega-flavor, soMaybe I should just jump up and get illMaybe I should let these people know they're being killedMaybe I should try my very best to chill, and get paidCuz I gotta pay bills, raa!"Excuse me brother, can you please stop making that noise so I can talk? Thank you. Now the boss says he wants you to come up with more copies of these checks, and the last thing he wants is you to move the desk to the basement, and can I have this stapler?"("Hey there champ, big boss man says you been late 3 days in a row, better sharpen up")Aw, this *****ing place sucks - same shit everydayLike to wring the boss' neck though, if only dreams could come trueDead boss, somebody call Red CrossI guess he got caught up in my mental holocaustHow much did it cost?Just a little piece of my mind for peace of mind"But he's bleeding!"Oh no, leave him. He'll be fineHe'll heal on his ownif you just give him some timeConsidering the fact that his face is misalignedHis legs are over there lying right next to his spine"Lunchtime!" Huh? Oh, Jesus, must have been daydreamingMy boss walks by, he's looking just like an *****Smiling because he jerks niggas for minimum cash flowHe's cool to my face but I swear I heard him laugh thoughTickled by the fact that I'm the modern day SamboAnd just when I think that I'm about to go RamboI call up my man and he says he understands, yoWe all are being murdered by a similar processWhether you work at the candy storeOr slave at the officeThe purpose of our life is just to serve the economyThey misinform our minds to paint a picture of harmonyBut if you listen then you know that shits out of tuneCuz the function of our life is just to work and consume***** reaching out to help the next, there ain't any roomJust close your eyes and block your ears and march to your doomBut since I really ain't getting paid for my timeI pulled out my pen and started writing a rhymeCan't you see that I'm busy, jerk?Don't you dare approach me with busy workTake another step and get hurtBy the man that embodies mad years of angerA cool bro, soon to be the Boston StranglerEverything inside of me is about to eruptCuz a righteous individual just likes to corruptI knew he'd lock me up if I started a brawlSo I deaden, and I punch the clock the ***** off the wall"Yea that's right mother*****eryou can't keep underpaying people and mistreating them all the timeThat's gonna resort to crime.As a matter of fact, you know what?Faks, yo cut this mother*****er, man."9-1-1
