All my people in the place put your fist In the air All my down muthafuckas get up outta Your chairs All my real down peoples we got love for You here Cept for that muthafuckas right there Get em
May your Champagne not bubble May your pinot be sour May that white stuff you snortin be 96 Percent flour May the famous rapper you bring to your Daughter's sweet 16 Get some pride and walk out As if born with a spleen May the death squads you hire be bad With instructions And by mistake be at your mansion with The street sweepers bustin May this make your guests forsake Their white Russians And dive behind the Jimmy Martin Cryin and cussin May your chef be off pissin in the bisque In the kitchen May I assume your autobiography is filed Under fiction Cuz off the breakin backs of others is Where you got all your cash Til we make the revolution I your life sucks ass
All my people in the place put your fist In the air All my down muthafuckas get up outta Your chairs All my real down peoples we got love for You here Cept for that muthafuckas right there Get em
[Thanks to Jimmy McTiff for these lyrics]
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