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Kanye West, The Game - Crack Music (Album Version (Explicit))

Crack Music
Kanye West, The Game
04:30
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Song lyrics

[Chorus]
[Kanye West:]
That's that crack music, nigga,
That real black music, nigga!
[The Game:]
That's that crack music, nigga,
That real black music, nigga!

[Verse 1: Kanye West]
How we stop the Black Panthers?
Ronald Reagan cooked up an answer.
You hear that? What Gil Scott was hearin'
When our heroes or heroines got hooked on heroin?
Crack raised the murder rate in D.C. and Maryland,
We invested in that, it's like we got Merrill lynched,
And we been hangin' from the same tree ever since,
Sometimes I feel the music is the only medicine.
So we, cook it, cut it, measure it, bag it,
Sell it, the fiends cop it, nowadays they can't tell if
That's that good shit, we ain't sure, man,
Put the CD on your tongue, yeah, that's pure, man!

[Chorus]

[Verse 2: Kanye West]
From the place where the father's gone, the mothers is hardly home
And the Madigans lock us up in the Audy Home.
How the Mexicans say, we just tryna party, holmes,
They wanna pack us all in a box like Styrofoam.
Who gave Saddam anthrax?
George Bush got the answers.
Back in the hood it's a different type of chemical,
Arm & Hammer baking soda raised they own quota,
Right when our soldiers ran for the stove ‘cause,
‘Cause, dreams of bein' Hova –
Went from bein' a broke man to bein' a dopeman
To bein' the President, look, there's hope, man!
This that inspiration for the Moes and the Folks, man,
Shorty come and see his momma straight overdosin'...
And this is the soundtrack,
This the type of music that you make when you ‘round that.

[Chorus]

God, how could you let this happen?

[Chorus – x3]

[Outro: Malik Yusef]
Our Father, give us this day, our daily bread
Before the feds give us these days and take our daily bread.
See I done did all this ol' bullshit,
And to atone, I throw a lil something some on the pulpit.
We took that shit, measured it and then cooked that shit,
And what we gave back was crack music,
And now we ooze it through they nooks and crannies,
So our mommas ain't got to be they cooks and nannies,
And we gon' repo everything they ever took from granny.
Now the former slaves trade hooks for Grammys.
This dark diction has become America's addiction,
Those who ain't even black use it,
We gon' keep baggin' up this here, crack music.

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