If (Produced by Oddisee) - Kenn Starr, Asheru, Talib Kweli

If it wasn’t for this and it wasn’t for that

Oh, this would be a better world

Yes, ladies and gentlemen

You do have Ken Starr in the house, and Asheru

Talib Kweli

If it wasn’t for the way that we live

Too many single mothers raisin' our kids

Too many brothers caged in the pen

Engaged in the bid, enslaved by the pigs

If it wasn’t for crooked cops that pop shots raisin' our wig

That send slugs reckless

Plus these thugs with a death wish

That take your life for that ice that flooded your necklace

The blood of the helpless and innocent

If it wasn’t for so-called friends that turn Benedict

Snakes in the grass and crabs in the lake

Cause I’m black and it’s late, get harassed by the jake

And blasted with eight times five plus one

Lethal deposit, reach for your wallet, they bust guns

That why I trust none and I keep to myself

I can’t blame cats that pack heat in they belt

And quick to clap, never givin' in

If it wasn’t for this and that

It’d be a better world that we livin' in

If it wasn’t for a mic check I wouldn’t have a check at all

Nowadays you can’t live that way

The market’s way too unstable

There’s too many pimp labels

Playin rappers like a ho, manhandlin' the dough

Demandin' them to go run the track to bring the loot back

Now you playin' for the team and the captain is cream

You got the dream to push a mean two-seater

With a diva ridin' shotgun just to say you got one

You make the songs but labels only want the hot ones

Send you back to the drawin' board until you got some

Now I guess we got problems

Even your all-creative mind ain’t enough to try an' solve 'em

The doors revolve and younger cats are starvin'

They want it more than you, might go to war wit' you

To reap the heap of gold that’s at the end of the rainbow

You can’t be mad, man, that’s how the game go

Yeah, come on, yeah, here we go, yeah…

I’m 'bout to show you what this black power is

It’s the red, black and green on the wrist, how I live

In the cold world, where we bust off the black llamas

Every winter where we lose more sun than black mamas

If hip hop got seasons, right now it’s spring

Life when e’rybody sellin' death, kiss the ring (yeah)

You know how it go, people change colors like autumn

Kids learn through experience, fuck what a teacher taught 'em

Puff a woolie for boredom, rough or at least accordin'

To parents who paid enough attention to at least ignore 'em

Blowin' up mics, throwin' up signs, but how, nigga

Is you confusin' it with crime?

When they write the history books

History looks past prisoners of war

That’s what my listeners are for

We turn a tide on this fuckery (?)

Ride on this fuckery (?)

Shoulda never let me in this industry

You stuck with me