white collar blue collar this one’s for you holler back
when these profits ask where the dollars at
we tell em move side to side ladida with that irey vibe
from the chi to the 415 cause live is live
love is love and heat is heat
visa vi what i see on the street and how it feed a beat
i be that soul rebel with cold levels of flow
my state of grace far from amazin just so you know
if i don’t know your middle name then it’s really not deep
if you ain’t swinging when you see me then it’s really not beef
they hit me like what’s up def
cold crushin the maiden voyage of this dubstep and wonderin what’s next
leave cats buggin tuggin the subtext
like if everybody’s really making it rain then why ain’t this place flood yet
vet in the clutch tippin a cup and givin a fuck
for all my people that just wanna get down until they gotta get up
I hate my nine to five
but I love my people for the way they get live
everybody that came out to the show when
you know damn well you have to work in the morning
either a pea on a plate or a fly in the soup
you’re the first out the gate or get trampled by the group of who’s who
when life’s just a roof and a mattress
the only thing certain is your death and the taxes
relax kid, cause if you add what they subtracted
wall Street said it was sufficient for the back rent
the last cent spent on your gas and the twist is the warmth was supplied but they charged for the matches
man, their aint no such thing as free speech
when the Feds put the cap on the sea cause the spigot leaked
thieves and no named slaves
with no chains enraged theirs no chang
more work and no raise
Its strange how the bailout still wasn’t enough
and in this broke ass economy I still sell drugs
Fuck the Man cause he’s nothing but a thief and a thug
Now repeat after me and turn it up till it bumps.
(Chorus)
I love my five to nine
because there’s something feed the ego when the spotlight shine
but they don’t see half of the work that goes in
when you polishin the coal
no they just see you holdin a gem
so what are you
a firefighter grant writer bus driver
the man who takes the coats the janitor the ceo
no i’m a human being with revolutionary dreams
that doubles as a love machine
everybody has that secretary with ass
that they fantasize about to make a workday pass
and everybody want an escape
I bet even if you love your job you got a boss that you hate
that love of currency will take you to slavery
say i make my money my money don’t make me
that’s why the motto at the end of the day be
i make my money my money don’t make me
(Chorus)