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Didn't do A levels
But me wok wid spirit level
Bassline an treble but still
At the bottom of capital hill
Financially embarrassed yet
Daily I am harrassed
By intentional good will.
But still……
Estates Degenerate,
Regenesis too late, but
Ya still call me mate.
Like every other bloke
Young gifted and broke,
Steel mesh windows
That Annual line of coke
But Mostly just smoke,
Cos life ain’t no joke,
Controlled by remote,
Just room for the hope
Of a big bag of dope,
That deal of a lifetime
early to prime time,
Top of the table
Economically stable
Drinking Fine vintage wine..
Having a good ol time.
But my rhymes revealing
The truth of the feeling
Suppressed by glass ceiling
True worth needs revealing
The high lifes appealing
still dodging and a dealing
Ducking and a weaving.
Daily were believing that
One day
be achieving
Those materialistic goals
Consuming your souls
Defining ya roles
Digging deep debt holes
That yo can never get out
No matter what ya shout
Not meant to be let out of
This caged identity,
Permanently shackled as
A detterant to society
In the black economy
Political necessity but
Econmicaly unfree
to chose How you loose
Be abandoned or abused
Nine of ten refused
Only know bout cash
Not allowed plastic
Policies jus making me sick
But still ya play ya Politricks
in my back yard
Condemned by a spin
of your economic race card
So if ya ever get that feeling
Suppressed by glass ceiling
Push it up push it up push it up.
Keep looking up keep looking up Keep looking up
Treading water in the underclass
Watching soles through ceilings of glass
Your ignorance is killing me
I’m the doormat of ya soul
Doormat of ya soul.