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Back in the days when I was a teenager |
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Minimum wage earning, rocking an apron |
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I was pushing hella carts asking plastic or paper |
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To bastard ass customers plus most of us had, |
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Relatives working in the same supermarket |
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When boss wasn't looking rolled the dice on the carpet |
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In the lunch room, listening to Biggie and Nas |
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But not as much as Snoop, Forty Water, and Pac |
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Me, I rocked the Walkman instead writing rhymes |
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In my head often bored, I'd recite them outloud |
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And memorize a song long before I'd write it down |
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In lunch room freestyles is where I learned to clown |
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Plantation style: yellow, brown, black majority |
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Half the young cats either enlisted in the Army |
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Or the Navy or Marines, but I was having dreams |
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And I ain't even halfway there yet |
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It seems that we never get paid what our labor is worth |
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That's why we often in a daze on the way to our work |
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And when we get there, we can't wait to be out |
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So let me tell you what it's about |
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And now we never get paid what our labor is worth |
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That's why we often in a daze on the way to our work |
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And when we get there, we can't wait to be out |
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So let me tell you what it's about |
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The next place of employment's no better than this |
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My first day thinking this some fuckin' "Office Space" shit |
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But not me boss(?), these conditions ain't suitable |
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Hide the pen and pad, writting rhymes in a cubicle |
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Automated phone click, dial tone, cold calling |
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Hoping for some gullible folks to take the offer |
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A mission for commision, tuition for college |
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"Please put our number on your do not call list" |
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Half the whole staff graduated with honors |
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And you're trying to tell me telemarketing's your best job option? |
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This shit is not poppin' |
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Working to the bone |
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Livin' at home |
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Facing up debt and student loans |
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Now the manager's a tool and a clown |
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But productivity increases anytime he's nowhere to be found |
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And this tight ass environment makes me want to hurl |
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Like watchin Flava Flav tongue kissin' old girl |
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Now we never get paid what our labor is worth |
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That's why we often in a daze on the way to our work |
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And when we get there, we can't wait to be out |
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So let me tell you what it's about |
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And now we never get paid what our labor is worth |
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That's why we often in a daze on the way to our work |
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And when we get there, we can't wait to be out |
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So let me tell you what it's about |
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The dotcom phenomenon, fuck the city boss |
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Stock Market falls down, hundred thousand's layed off |
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Got with Amazon.com, it had a lot of cross-dressers, goth cats, ex-cons, and single moms |
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On the elevator up, my Walkman on, flash a badge for security, the mark of the beast |
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But with skills to persuade through speech, you'd be amazed to see how many customer service reps are MCs |
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At each instance, different job descriptions |
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What kept a brother going was the music that I listened to |
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Initiate the day with an anthem to work through |
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Then the supervisor started blastin' Dave Matthews |
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Shit is bad news |
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Working for some assholes in suits, straight singing middle management blues |
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And so I quit on the last day of training |
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And when I got home my notebook was waiting |
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I said we never get paid what our labor is worth |
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That's why we often in a daze on the way to our work |
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And when we get there, we can't wait to be out |
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So let me tell you what it's about |
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And now we never get paid what our labor is worth |
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That's why we often in a daze on the way to our work |
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And when we get there, we can't wait to be out |
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I told you what this shit is about |
