mankind x djh2 - the reagan error lyrics
mankind x djh2 ft. gypjaq + “the reagan error”
[emcee(s): !llumin@te and sciryl]
[producer(s): djh2 (aka h2 / halo)]
[hook/additional vocals: gypjaq]
[hook: mankind with additional vocals by gypjaq]
maybe i’m crazy or maybe i’m just an 80s baby
maybe i’m crazy or maybe i’m just a reagan baby
sh+t, we all make mistakes
sh+t, we all make mistakes—that’s what makes us great
so let’s make america great again
huh! let’s make america great again
huh! let’s make america great again
ha! let’s make america great again
[verse 1: !llumin@te]
how far the mighty has fallen
is this mic on? somebody recording? somebody important
willing to speak? somebody supporting freedom
of speech or some form of therapeutic release?
i do recall a time before the fall
before i sprang back into the action, before the summer of 2015
baltimore uprising. i’m up, tired, and
get knocked down, get back up fighting, writing
getting dirty, doing god’s work, mr. clean
you know the truth burn your mouth like listerine
mr. president, 1600 pennsylvania
ave resident, resident evil knievel
playing truth or dare, spin the bottle, playing
shoot the hare, win the lotto, pick your poison, let it
trickle+down, skin the goose, wear a triple+down
be a fat cat, pappy mason
rich porters, sons of mankind baptized in p+ss
water, p+ss+poor disorder
sanitized sanitation workers working for a worker’s
compensation. trump kept trying to change the conversation
it’s complicated trying to win your party’s nomination
trying to play the part of ronald reagan
it’s paganomics. cross your fingers when you make a promise
when telling lies, say they’re honest ‘til you make ‘em vomit
[hook: mankind with additional vocals by gypjaq]
maybe i’m crazy or maybe i’m just an 80s baby
maybe i’m crazy or maybe i’m just a reagan baby
sh+t, we all make mistakes
sh+t, we all make mistakes—that’s what makes us great
so let’s make america great again
huh! let’s make america great again
huh! let’s make america great again
ha! let’s make america great again
[verse 2: sciryl]
likely, you’re black+fitted on, black timbs
black lenses, slacks fitted long, you know?
army fatigue, patch knitted on the jacket
to match it. capture the don in captions
the newsflash rap ‘til it gone
if i ain’t giving back to the squad and attacking
the charts, i’d rather just catch you for flossing yours
then move to the block, back with it on, no
need for the ratchet because i mack your chick
like, “go find your man, ask for his cross, come
back with it on, and you and all your friends and them
could come back with my boys.” huh! easy as that
with no asking because i’m the greaziest cat
who never mastered the mug, i be laughing
with shrugs, the hottest cat rapping. get slapped if
you thinking you half what i was. i done lapped you
and passed you. i actually was the dude who half
rap, half what it was back when the boom
bap made it packed in the clubs and djs
made you clap, clap for the fact that it was
the art form of blacks and we finally owned our own
music, we’re finally home. right around the same
time, reagan got us enclosed, made crack and rap
some rhyming, some grinding them stones
in the 80s, that’s the time we was boned. moms held me
heart unhealthy, time we was grown
came down with pneumonia, hotter than cold, we saw
the body had a mind of its own. pops keeping me good
but got the block still guiding me on
on the block, most commonly known as that young n+gga
riding alone. never talk to him much
but he always got his mind in the zone and rhyme in his songs
i see him with his shorty, and she hot as a stove. sh+t, it’s
kind of crazy watching him grow. if there’s a lot that you know
then bet there’s gonna be a lot that you don’t like, “how these
hating n+ggas jocking my flow?” so i try to expose
these rap b+st+rds, but how do you know? it’s like
a grain of rice hiding in snow, and i spot ‘em and know
they act greasy. really, they’re measly
so ripping them easy, slide in a ho. keep your biz
‘cause i’m minding my own. no pop, ock
i stay hot in any climate or zone, and i get
over+real when dropping these poems and trying to get
loads of bills like monica’s dome. it’s nothing (election year!)
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