...is my basic statement/
I spit street stories til I taste the pavement/
Tryin' to stay out the penn where we face enslavement/
Had a full-proof hustle til they traced the payments/
I was grippin' my palm around some shitty rum/
Tryna find some number one fifty one/
To forget what I'm owed, as a clutch the commode/
Its time to put down the bottle and come get the gun/
Lets get off the chain like Kunta Kente with a Mack 10/
They want us gone like a dollar in crack den/
Steadily substractin' seeds and stems/
Mind clouded from the weez and phlegm/
Now take my brain off of that and the jesus hymns/
If we waitin for the time to fight these is thems/
They tellin' us to relax, while they ease it in/
We gettin greased again/
The truth I write is so cold it'll freeze my pen/
I'm Boots Riley its a pleasure to meet you/
Never let they punk asses ever defeat you/
They got us on the corner wearing pleather and see through/
All yalls are gold mines and they wanna deplete you/
I ain't just finna rap on a track/
I'm here to clap on them back/
And its been stackin' to that/
500 years before Iceberg ever leaned back in a 'Lac/
Before they told Rosa 'black in the back'/
Before the CIA told Ricky Ross to put crack in the sack/
Til' Gil Scott traded rappin' for smack/
This be the launch of your platinum plaques/
I'd rather see a million of extatic to scrap/
Cuz if we smackin' em back/
We're automatically stacked.


^^^Its a killer verse. One of the best in years.