Bum Deal - Jean Grae, Natural Resource

We bring it down on the two ‘cause we’re not the ones

No, we’re not the ones

We bring it down on the two ‘cause we’re not the ones

We’re not the ones, yo, we’re not the ones

I. Drop.

My.

Style like this

Twist, shape shift, bum deals get diss

My flow’s been blessed, chopping up at the breath

Expand thoughts, chest retract, inhale the cess

Digression—best defense emcees kept possession

Southeast to northwest, contest to submission

I flex, release, tense muscles and cease

Stole the master key to free 'em from the industry leash

I got a, full mind, with lethal weapons

Breaking down crews in seconds while the hardcore beckons

But I, stay focused even though triggers attempt

Even though niggas are bent, so quick to represent

Real emcees, we broke, Moet don’t wet my throat

I keep a double-edged sword, no one to mute the remote

You need to keep your mouth shut, talking jaja on wax

And no doubt, we’ll see what happens with the company tax

You know you gotta recoup, keeping your niggas with loot

And gambling with your soul, rocks is your papers they shoot

You’re tampering with the art, and you’re position’s just temp

I got the full-time job from bum deals in zest

We bring it down on the two ‘cause we’re not the ones

She’s not your daughter, and I’m not your son

So why you tryna play us like we’re dumb?

These deal is for bums

From the cradle to the grave, elementary to the penitentiary

The Black man’s been getting the bum deal of the century

Now you want to get with the rap techniques you used to diss

I see you in these Coca-Cola commercials, and it’s really making me pissed

But I gotta give my, do and get my boots

Two, in come more through.

True, and get my loot too

But you gotta remember from which this household started

And these labels are trying to gas you up like someone farted

I come more strong-hearted than Lion-O

is my father and What?

What?

is

So we had no choice but to be good guys with appeal

And don’t got no time for nobody’s whack record deal

I feel we should make one buck out of every album that we sell

If we did, you don’t think that I’d know you’d make twelve?

What the hell?

I got a job, she’s got a job, he’s got a job, we’re all in school

So why is it that you’re trying to play us for fools?

‘Cause most shit stinks like bird stool, can’t hack it

And I don’t want to be playin' like white shit up on my jacket

Your tax bracket sees you green, while all these emcees see is teal

What are we, assholes?

You can keep your bum deal

We bring it down on the two ‘cause we’re not the ones

She’s not your daughter, and I’m not your son

So why you tryna play us like we’re dumb?

These deal is for bums

I’m surrounded by: bums

Crowded by: bums

Your style is like: bums

Bums

I need no bum deal for my bung-hole

You sold your soul—now they’re in control

Jerked your body like a marionette

Took your pens and your pads and replaced them with texts

No say in the game, rappers sounding the same

I’m sick of Versace, Chanel, and Gucci, drinking champagne

Love’s gonna getcha, I betcha, double dare you

Physical challenge, your player shit is losing balance

Get off the job, talk—your whole aura is weak

My black people either got to be Italian or Greek

Need to step off the scene, contracts and wicked seals, for real

Keep your whack-ass fucking bum deal

We bring it down on the two ‘cause we’re not the ones

She’s not your daughter, and I’m not your son

So why you tryna play us like we’re dumb?

These deal is for bums