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My Soul's Reparations

by Mad Squablz

[Interpolation: Michael Peterson]
"Folks, I am happy to report that the recession is now officially over and we have nobody to thank but all these black people with their taste for expensive clothes, fancy cars and of course, gaudy jewelry."
[Intro]
Stuck in my ways, I trust if it pays
And pray that paper could save us from the struggles and pain
Struggles and pain
[Verse 1]
Uh, rhyming to reach the masses
Climbing the steepest ladder, my mind is a deeper capsule
What we imagine is not as wise as the preacher, but not as blind as the people's passion
Claiming that money equals happiness
I see the craft in this behind the Devil's hassle
Deceiving demons preach the premise is to perceive the release is devious testament
The medicine seems to be seeping deep in the crevices
Eagerly seeking peace through receipts and the weak intelligence
Ignorance is no excuse, we need to know the truth
They only teach what they think they need to control the youth
My soul holds a heavy burden, mind is rolling too
Don't believe me? Let me show the proof
Focused on the bogus [?], hoping that I can overcome this soul abuse
I'm rolling through, trying to show the world what they conforming to
I'm coping too, wilding while I'm rhyming trying to show 'em proof
Gotta keep a balance, but this balance, see, is overdue
The love for currencies concerning, we the most confused
Why we chasing dollars just to spend it on some phony shoes?
Why the [?] give us make us just enough to get us through?
They hella rich, but don't forget, them niggas owe us too
[Bridge]
Uh, they don't want to admit it
Back in the days where they ain't want us to narrate a sentence
Now we the highest population to carry a sentence
But I forgot to mention
[Hook]
Give me reparations for my soul, give me my gold
Got a reason that we never got to grow
To hell with all the lies they tell us, I need my dough
Just let me collect my prize and, nigga, I'm out the door
Give me reparations for my soul, give me my gold
Got a reason that we never got to grow
To hell with all the lies they tell us, I need my dough
Just let me collect my prize and, nigga, I'm out the door
Fosho, let's go
[Interpolation: Michael Peterson]
"Cadillac announced that they sold three million Escalade trucks this afternoon alone. It's incredible, Chuck, these people just seem to be breaking their necks to give this money right back to us."
[Verse 2]
Yo, we returning the favor to these perpetrators
Why the hell we earning paper?
Get a simple urge to splurge it, then regurgitate it
I'm on the verge of losing patience
Even the church is earning paper
But the members only believe because the preachers' faithful
They even made us more reliant on a piece of paper
Reach the paper just to give it back to the ones who keep enslaving
And they enslave us, increase the prices, increase the labor
They keep us buying, but we supply what they need to make you
[Outro]
Ain't that some shit? We advocates
We make some bread to go get some Jordans, they cashing in
Yeah, they owe us, but the only thing I'm asking
What's the point of reparations if we just gon' give it back to them?
Yeah, yeah
What's the point of reparations if we just gon' give it back to them?
Give me reparations for my soul, I need reparations for my soul
Give me reparations for my soul, reparations for my soul
I need reparations for my soul, give me reparations for my soul
Give me reparations for my soul, I need reparations for my soul
Give me reparations for my soul, reparations for my soul
I need reparations for my soul, give me reparations for my soul
Stuck in my ways, I trust if it pays
And pray that paper could save us from the struggles and pain
Struggles and pain