True Intention - Jehst

God bless our corrupted minds

For trying to fuck with rhymes

We probably should’ve stuck with crimes

Crowds are hating on me

Fans are rating on me

Alcohol got me stumbling around like a waking zombie

Dragging myself out of the grave

To show these young-bloods how to behave

The cycle’s counting the days

Every LP is a resurrection

Stagnating

Waiting for fresh direction

In the east of the city

Peep the situation

We’ve got dreams

But no means of facilitation

A grand vision of autonomy

The reason why a drug dealer exploits the black-market economy

And everybody want an 'MTV crib'

Trying to figure where the WMDs hit

You gots to chill

Like EPMD did

Wifey wiling out on some PMT-shit

The rent’s late

I see a few of these dudes as dead weight

A leader in need of head space

I blaze the Peng-grade

The pen stays poised

My ink-flow's poisoned to keep me employed

I’m eating off sixteen bars

Used to be nine

Double-jointed

Blazing two zoots at a time

Losing my mind

Finding my feet

Explaining to bre’ers:

I’ve got to get paid to rhyme on the beat

I’m trying to eat

Love don’t pay the bills

They say: «Jehst got crazy skills!»

But the stress is going to make me ill!

I’ve been badly advised

So I trust no one

Except my family-ties

I’ve head it with lies and Geminis

It’s all over, man

Snakes in the grass

I’m the lawn-mower man

The green-fingered

Black-hearted

Corporate whore

There’s no such thing as a rap artist

It’s all bullshit

White boys blacking up

Modern Al Johnson

B-Boys cracking up like:

«This can’t be my beautiful culture!»

Chasing the mirage of food for the vulture

That’s circling over

You’ll never escape your fate

In this Orwellian state

It’s got schoolboys peddling weight

Pop-pop leave you dead in your gates

It’s the same throughout many estates

The melody makes the pain numb

Soldiers back from Iraq selling firearms fresh of the plane bun

It’s plain dumb

How an Iraqi and a kid from Hackney can be killed by the same gun

So when you put my tape into your deck

Think about Columbine and Virginia Tech

Martial law is still in effect

A society, pushed to the brink, to the limit, the edge!

Who’s held accountable for civilian deaths?

Everytime a politician want to big-up his chest

It’s all economics

The arms-trade generates dollars

And dictators don’t educate scholars

It’s trick-knowledge

We no longer celebrate honour

When men are dying, we stay quiet

And pray we don’t face the same horror

At the hands of their descendants

Thinking it’s the price of our independence

All eyes on the future

While soldiers in Fallujah

Control by remote-viewer

OK Computer?