You don't-
You don't-
You don't own me (own me, own me, own me)
[Ubiquitous of Ces Cru]
Heh, Gates
CES
Never did
No you don't own me!!
[Verse 1: Ubiquitous of Ces Cru]
Well let me paint up the picture, he like to smoke weed
And blow smoke up my ass, he like to blow trees
In my state we don't ask, you have to show me
That money all in a stack, you have to go green
I see a snake in the grass, I get the grass cut
I never state in my raps what I don't back up
I put my faith in the facts and push the rest left
You put your life in my hands I take the next step
I'm genu-flect in the flesh, first bar and last word, never second my guess
I come to show 'em the difference between what you effect and what you own
Between what you possess and what you hold
Let it go, should've left it alone, swinging your threats
Like a weapon bringing stress to my home
Respect shown where respect due
Take your loss, he toss chips
Like a gangster, playin' the boss
Now pay the cost
[Hook: Ubi, {Added vocals}]
You can show up, buy out the debt
Cross T's dot I's while you're signing my check
You might supply it direct, but
{You don't own me (own me, own me, own me)}
But you don't own me!
So you can pay up, spend
Money on us if you wanna we can break up bread
Even so may come a day when I will say fuck them!
Cause {you don't own me (own me, own me, own me)}
No you don't own me!
[Verse 2: ]
Wave that flag, buy it first, pay that tax
Pay that tab don't matter if you ate low snacks
Break bread fast, and pass the plate around
Keep your mouth shut don't make a sound, break 'em down
They shitted on me cause I got this little felony
Wouldn't let me vote I'm like alright well they ain't smellin' me
Well, yeah I'm glad that the Replublicans lost
But paint the White House pink the government is soft mother-
Fucker, Gates middle finger flipper mister sippin' liquor
Driving got my car insurance figure bigger
I'm getting better, but I'm bitter with the system
I literally had to pay for cups they made me piss in
When placed in this position, I'm liable to flip
Boondocks Saint, you're guiltier I empty out my clip
Go eat another pork sandwich you fat fuck
Caught me smoking weed and got me caught up in brass, chya
[Hook]
[Verse 3: ]
In this tepid of molested music
I refuse to use my baffle with the tools of flesh abuse
No, I’m not your jester on a string pulled for the mass amusement
Your thoughts of monetary care are dangling, best to lose it
Far removed from rap watches
Crack copping and
Stack pockets and
Sack gobbling
Lacklustering
Rap chanting and
Jig dancing the rap customers
Freelancing the values I choose to uphold
May be keeping me broke but its keeping me from losing my soul
Been the brokest rapper in the VIP, for the rap boys with heavy chains: but problems represent around their necks and form a heavy chain, weigh down their heavy brains, preoccupied with petty things
That time of death couldn't snatch away
No batch of cash can patch your weight
I swear to god, its hard as martyrs costs is this calling it has befallen all upon us fear harmony harming against the almighty dollar of this industrial wasteland
Can never own the mirror image staring at my face man, You’ll never own me
[Hook]