Crack Music - Kanye West, The Game

La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

La-la-la-la-la-la

That’s that crack music nigga

That real black music nigga

La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

La-la-la-la-la-la

How we stop the black panthers?

Ronald Reagan cooked up an answer

You hear that?

What Jill Scott was hearin

When our heroes and heroines got hooked on heroin.

Crack raised the murder rate in DC and Maryland

We invested in that it’s like we got Merril-Lynched

And we been hangin from the same tree ever since

Sometimes I feel the music is the only medicine

So we cook it, cut it, measure it, bag it, sell it

The fiends cop it

Nowadays they cant tell if that’s that good shit

We ain’t sure man

Put the CD on your toungue yeah, thats pure man.

From the place where the fathers gone,

The mothers is hardly home

And the…

Gonna lock us up in «Audy Home»

How the Mexicans say we just tryin to party homes

They wanna pack us all in a box like styrofoam

Who gave Saddam anthrax?

George Bush got the answers

Back in the hood it’s a different type of chemical,

Am and Hammer baking soda

Raised they own «a

Writin when our soldiers ran for the stove cuz--

Cuz dreams of being 'Hova went from bein a brokeman ta bein a dopeman

Ta bein a president look theres hope man

This that inspiration for tha mos and tha folks man,

Shorty come and see if mama straight overdosin.

And this is the soundtrack,

This tha type of music you make when you round that--

Crack music nigga,

That real black music nigga.

That’s that crack music nigga

That real black music nigga

La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

La-la-la-la-la-la

God-how could you let this happen, happen, happen, happen, happen, happen?

La-la-la

That’s that crack music, crack music

That real black music, black music

La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

La-la-la-la-la-la

That’s that crack music nigga

That real black music nigga

La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

La-la-la-la-la-la

That’s that crack music, crack music, that real black music, black music

Our father, give us this day our daily bread… give us these days and take our

daily bread,

See I done did all this ole bullshit

And to attone I throw a little somethin, somethin on the pulpit.

We took that shit, measured it and then cooked that shit

And what we gave back was crack music

And now we ooze it through they nooks and crannies

So our mammas aint got to be they cooks and nannies

And we gonna repo everything they ever took from granny

Now the former slaves trade hooks for Grammys

This dark diction has become America’s addiction those who ain’t even black use

it.