Runaway Slave - Pep Love, Otayo Dub

Share-cropping and wet nursing and cotton chopping

No benefits for hip-hopping, or stock options

But it’s better than drug dealing, stealing or robbing

My brain is bugged

I need to get a lobotomy to get this sickness out of me

My split personality is like a dichotomy

The big psychology of a slave that had his soul saved

Like a black baptist in the South

Cradle to the grave

So show the next generation a way to behave

My bars are self-therapy for breaking the chains

Who’s that peeking in my window?

The internet television government men in trench coats

The spirit of my ancestors invoked

So the devil won’t test my testicles, you know?

We bringing the gospel, and singing the blues

What once was one now seems we thinking in two

1, 2 to smash Kunta Kinte

Name will be Toby by the 40th lash

He don’t want to be a slave, but he do what he has

So when he cries you’ll be seeing him laugh and rise from the ash

Yeah, we give it all we got to get, all we got to get, get it and go

Yeah, we give it all we got to get, all we got to get a little bit more

I’m like an ex-convict trying to get a job

And smoking and drinking and thinking about a nigga problems

I’m getting involved in my own downfall

Probably be doing better living life as an outlaw

My credit score is a metaphor for whip scar

I’m ready for war cause peace is a jigsaw

You don’t really want to see a nigga get pissed off

My pistol wiil be popping like bottles of Cristal

Like them big balling cats, I kinda want to

Run up on them and give up all their scratch

But I don’t want to be a criminal

And I only want to get high because I been living so low in the hole

The path laid was never paved in gold

But a lot of rigamarole when this slave was sold

Down the Mississippi, I’m only skinny dipping

And if I drown, ain’t no telling who I’ll be bringing with me

The world running afraid, they keep running

But the sun gonna come in the day, it keep coming

It keep coming, it keep coming

The sun gonna come in the day

Reading these words, like it’s Nat Turner written

Spitting these verses like the last words of wisdom

Ripping through the fields, this one for real, missing these meals

But don’t take my silence as an admission of guilt

No response, I just mean I’m pleading the fifth

When these dogs get let loose but you won’t see me miss

Wasn’t never exempt, couldn’t never repent

For what some had to do just to get where they is

Fist is clenched tight, so that he grip mics

Thinking that they grown, but living a bitch life

And this is the vice, putting these words out

Wasn’t born to sacrifice my rights, I just learned how