"Hip hop, modern time, flossy and raw so self-absorbed, immature
I can't remember being this bored
Fake bonanza, become real wars
Bullets burn through the candy on the driver side door
Long investigations and no firm lead,
billion dollar flow and black life is still cheap
Where rent skyrockets and job prospects plummet
Ten murders, ten days, this summer
Talk about today's mathematics,
a eighth, an O, a key and the caliber on your ratchet
The inmate number, a centerfold's measurements
As close as a cold cell come to some tenderness
I heard them say it was all about the Benjamins
I don't believe it now, didn't believe it then."
-mos def
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