(hook 1) - b.ware

Slave to the rhythm, unpaid, put my bid in
walk alone, so i bid them farewell
and the page is the prison for the rage that was given
from the pain that we feelin, which i tell...

(verse 1) - b.ware

omit nada
fed from the food of our crib, plus the pork of the pigs, dig?
to get caught up in crookery, red meat lines the stomach killing the good of the
kids of fathers, abandoned
pops never knew Brandon but Pac did cuz he bothered to converse through the hurt
modified this soon-to-be martyr was my curse
a gift from God
very odd, ironic, oxymoronic, even
chronic seasons 365 where i lurk
the lessons, though i peeped them, sowing all the reapings
reaper creepin' to see ya under earth
what, will i learn first? before them church bells get to ringing
cuz them goons perched, looming doom impeding
see what holds true worth, what i'm supposed to do first
walls closing in on you, i can't Samson...
repeating, pops never knew Brandon, props neither
as for Shakur? a teacher
feeder on the flesh of the text of our leaders
i was greater, truth, never fiction like Al-Qaeda
we don't believe you!

(hook 2) - b.ware

i be the slave to the rhythm unpaid put my bid in
left home, had to bid them farewell
and the page became the prison for the rage that was given
from the pain that we feelin, which i tell

(verse 2) - b.ware

creating understanding through conversations with Pooh
held close, i save for you, indubitable
word for the news i spew
shout out to Mercer U., salute to the students who
supported through those that abhorred
been shorted, some snored and snorted
that was my fuel, my boost, or my gummy beary juice
never to fall again
this music i do is my ball and chain, unh!
the bull whip, my welts, but none shall i fear
they want me hung from the snare and sprawled in shame
i crawled from underneath the bang of the beat
free-base, meanin' my release gave me strength for the weak
so they call and i came, high octane
more tame like the Tyson Cus D'Amato trained
and so i live through my peeps, locked in the pen with my speech
behind the bars i maintain mane... slave

(hook 3) - b.ware

i am the slave to the rhythm, unpaid, put my bid in
now i'm gone so i bid you farewell
and the page is the prison for the rage that was given
from the pain that we feelin... i gotta tell

(talking) - b.ware

let me clarify for you niggas what i mean when i say slave... this ain't no mentality shit, it's serving the people. when you do that you tell all. no holding back...

(verse 3) - b.ware

I think i'm Rakim Allah
let the rhytm hit'em, if the music useful, they winnin'
oozin' through every tendon, you'll lose it too, just listen
it's that tension in'em, censor us, niggas erupt
i cuss cuz i'm in touch with what it's like when life's fucked
my Adel lady said, bay, they need to hear it
don't let your inner-fear and shit, be your interference
and that's an integral tip when cyclical living could bring our ending
the final hours ending, no OT
so we dodge Opie, Andy and Barney Fife, i've seen harder nights
audited the audio, altered it for my awkward hype
had a nigga shook like Drake without 40, day and night
now i know i'm God-sent, survived rain 40 days and nights
b and Christ be quite alike, tempted 40 days and nights
plus i serve the poor who guzzle 40's day and night
that's 80 days of pain, no engineer in sight and a bum liver
nigga, b.ware i'm nothin' nice call me

(hook 4) - b.ware

the slave to the rhythm, everyday, put my bid in
fuck a throne, tell a critic go to hell
cuz the page is my prison from the rage that we live in
from the pain that my niggas feelin... i'll always tell

(outro) - b.ware

this for my Black Nation, avoiding the Perry Mason and that long vacation...
for my college fam, hoping to get that plot of land, remember the common man
this for my lady sippin' crushed grapes, listening to that red tape
cut the red tape... cut that red tape... yeah...