The only cribs that we should care for
Are the ones that we are here for
Ones belonging to my children
That do what we do, scar from our wounds
The only cribs that make a difference
Where the magic really happens
Don't come with a Mercedes Benz
Or a wide screen showing nothing
Showing nothing...
I'm sick of home control devices
Sick of sickening home designers
Sick the drugs and gold and strip poles
Sick of homies, sick of posers
Despite the nodding staff that serves you
Despite the name on the clothes and perfume
Despite the way that press observes you
You're just people...
Successful people
Dressed up people
Smiling people
Famous people
Red Carpet people
Wealthy people
Important people
But still just people
So fuck the million dollar kitchen
Fuck the Al-Pacino posters
Fuck the drugs the gold the strip poles
Fuck the homies, fuck the posers
Fuck the walls they build around them
Fuck the bedroom magic nonsense
I don't want to hear their voices
As long as they've vote with their wallets
Fuck the silly “throw you out” joke
Fuck the framed cigar DeNiro smoked
Fuck their lack of originality and personality
Fuck this travesty
Fuck this new norm
Fuck comformity
Fuck their Kristal
Fuck their sordity
Fuck the way they fuck equality
Fuck their freebie gear
Fuck the ones they wear
You're just people..
Successful people
Dressed up people
Smiling people
Famous people
Red Carpet people
Wealthy people
Important people
But still just people
Messed up people
Shallow people
Stupid people
Plastic people
Meta people
Theta people
Therapyople
Entropiople
Oh, fuck the ones they wear
I'm cribcaged
The only cribs that we should care for
Are the ones that we are here for
The ones belonging to our children
That do what we do, scar from our wounds
The only cribs that we should care for Are the ones that we are here for Ones belonging to my children That do what we do, scar from our wounds
The only cribs that make a difference Where the magic really happens Don't come with a Mercedes Benz Or a wide screen showing nothing Showing nothing...
I'm sick of home control devices Sick of sickening home designers Sick the drugs and gold and strip poles Sick of homies, sick of posers
Despite the nodding staff that serves you Despite the name on the clothes and perfume Despite the way that press observes you You're just people...
Successful people Dressed up people Smiling people Famous people Red Carpet people Wealthy people Important people But still just people
So fuck the million dollar kitchen Fuck the Al-Pacino posters Fuck the drugs the gold the strip poles Fuck the homies, fuck the posers Fuck the walls they build around them Fuck the bedroom magic nonsense I don't want to hear their voices As long as they've vote with their wallets
Fuck the silly “throw you out” joke Fuck the framed cigar DeNiro smoked Fuck their lack of originality and personality Fuck this travesty
Fuck this new norm Fuck comformity Fuck their Kristal Fuck their sordity
Fuck the way they fuck equality Fuck their freebie gear Fuck the ones they wear You're just people..
Successful people Dressed up people Smiling people Famous people Red Carpet people Wealthy people Important people But still just people
Messed up people Shallow people Stupid people Plastic people Meta people Theta people Therapyople Entropiople
Oh, fuck the ones they wear I'm cribcaged
The only cribs that we should care for Are the ones that we are here for The ones belonging to our children That do what we do, scar from our wounds