Live from the Plantation - Mr. Lif

Oh, my fucking god, man

Oh, fucking serious

Jesus Christ, man

Already?

Man, time flies like a motherfucker

Rise and shine

Yet another day to toss away

What does my clock display?

It says eight

Shit, I’m late for work again

So then

I dip with my pad and my pen

Step into the work place with my work face

Wince at my time card, 'cause I’m scarred

Mad 'cause I sacrifice my day and it gets me

A trifling hourly wage of six-fifty

Nifty

Now I’m off to slave quarters

With a whole bunch of other people’s sons and daughters

Working so they can be mothers and fathers

Laboring real hard

Hoping the boss offers

More petty cash to us bums and paupers

Kissing his ass, 'cause they hoping they prosper

Here’s the math

You work a third of your day away

The government takes a third of your check, correct

You go home and drink

'Cause you don’t get an ounce of respect

And your spirit is wrecked

Life is a gift to be enjoyed every second, every minute

It’s temporary, not infinite

Yet, I find myself looking at the clock

Hoping for the day to fly by

So I ask myself why

I’m doing this remedial work for second graders

I’m an educator with mega flavor

So

Maybe I should just jump up and get ill

Maybe I should let these people know they’re being killed

Maybe I should try my very best to chill

And get paid, 'cause I gotta pay bills

Rah

«'Cause I’ve had it»

Excuse me, brother, could you please stop making that noise so I can talk?

Thank you

Now, the boss says he wants you to come up with more copies of these checks

Hey there, champ, big boss man says you’ve been late three days in a row

Better sharpen up

And the boss says he wants you to move your desk to the basement

And can I have this stapler?

Aw, this fucking place sucks

Same shit every day

Like to wring the boss’s neck, though

If only dreams could come true

Dead boss

Somebody call Red Cross

I guess he got caught up in my mental holocaust

How much did it cost?

Just a little piece of my mind for peace of mind

(But he’s bleeding)

Oh, no, leave him

He’ll be fine

He’ll heal on his own

If you just give him some time

Considering the fact that his face is misaligned

His legs are over there lying right next to his spine

(Lunchtime)

Jesus, I must have been daydreaming, man

My boss walks by, he’s looking just like an asshole

Smiling 'cause he jerks niggas for minimal cash flow

He’s cool to my face, but I swear, I heard him laugh, though

Tickled by the fact that I’m the modern-day Sambo

And just when I think that I’m about to go Rambo

I call up my man and he says he understands, yo

We all are being murdered by a similar process

Whether you work at the candy store or slave at the office

The purpose of our life is just to serve the economy

They misinform our minds to paint a picture of harmony

But if you’re listening, you know that shit’s out of tune

'Cause the function of our life is just to work and consume

Fuck reaching out to help the next, there ain’t any room

Just close your eyes and block your ears and march to your doom

But since I ain’t really getting paid for my time

I pulled out my pen and started writing a rhyme

Can’t you see that I’m busy, jerk?

Don’t dare approach me with busy work

Take another step and get hurt

By the man that embodies mad years of anger

A cool bro', soon to be the Boston Strangler

Everything inside of me’s about to erupt

'Cause a righteous individual dislikes the corrupt

I knew he’d lock me up if I started a brawl

So I jetted and I punched the clock the fuck off the wall

Yeah, that’s right, motherfucker

You can’t keep on underpaying people

And mistreating them all the time

That’s gonna result in crime

As a matter of fact, you know what?

Fakts, yo, cut this motherfucker up, man

«I ain’t the one»