Dead Presidents ft. Theory

These lyrics were submitted through RapPad - Write Better Lyrics (Verse 1): People depressed and self delivered, trapped up in the heat Won't stop on the beats till we don't starve in the streets The laws of defeat, don't understand why we follow them We get home and get stoned, thats what the fucking problem is Take off like a rocket ship, won't come down til targets hit I broke the mirror holding me back as a narcissist Holding private conferences, fulfill empty promises Bush talkin shit, but we had funded what Osama did Glamorized slaves if we chasing the golden chains #Kevin #Hart hasn't been the same, I put the #soul in #plane Pumping bass still we saving pipe for life's treble My soul had a deep conversation with the fuckin Devil I don't do it for the industury I do it for the undergroud rappers spitting in the streets The other factions, hand on the black magnum Speak English when I run through like Sam Jackson Ransacking the Feds, pants saggin and hands grabbin Running through Ferguson, can't handle the Grand Dragon Shoot past like the bullet near Suge Knight's head I been through this hood life, I'll leave you shook right there But I got to much to lose, I need my grandma to hug me Amongst thieves, the life of vice runs throughout my bloodstream Refuse to stop spitting raw rhymes til my tongue bleeds Behind the scenes to hide the drugs from the eyes of fiends (Hook x2) Is there heaven for us hip-hop heathens Big Pop and Pac, even Eazy had 'em leanin' We all children lookin' for a reason What do you believe in, betrayal, treason? (Bridge x2) I'm out for dead presidency I'm out for dead presidency I'm out for dead presidency I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents that represent me (Verse 2): Seen too many niggas fall to that dope slangin' Corporate America had left us on that rope hangin' And ain't nobody seen it like I've ever seen it You had the ghetto fiending, plus it, methamphatine it Droppin these like Socrates, grab a oxygen mask You couldn't understand my shit in your philosophy class Saw my Grandpa fall to every single shot in that glass Till he was hooked up with a needle and colostomy bag And tell my homie Joey that'll I'll see him up in heaven And ask if there, they have thugs who run with Mac-11's Attack a reverend if he's preaching that bullshit Everyone got a blast for me, religion's full clip Dead presidents I wanted all my fuckin' life Now I've seen my homies fall to that, it ain't nothing nice Thieves in the night, yo we want what we can't have So he's behind the damn facade, time to stand back You tell me I'm conscious, my conscious could swear by me Dear diary, I only see the signs that's rushing by me If we chase whips and chains, all we are a mental slave? My Grandma told me I was a God, I'll take that to the grave Spent my life tryna slide-by, on the high rise Playing that piano, homies fall to the drive-by Terrorists, fences and terraces, and evidently I always wanted dead presidents to represent me, but shit (Hook x2) Is there heaven for us hip-hop heathens Big Pop and Pac, even Eazy had 'em leanin' We all children lookin' for a reason What do you believe in, betrayal, treason? (Bridge x2) I'm out for dead presidency I'm out for dead presidency I'm out for dead presidency I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents that represent me