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​Bread and Butter

This song is by The Roots and appears on the album Game Theory (2006).

Original video
Truck North
Yeah,
Through the sirens, the lights is blindin'.
Battlecry sound off, warriors dyin'.
Last call at the bar with the snakes and tyrants.
Hands up! That's a massacre, the cops kept firin'.
Run amok, keep y'all eternally cryin',
And fed up. Place red stains on global giants.
The brain of Orson Welles,
Stuck in a masterpiece, Citizen Kane's personal hell.
It's dark, and it's hot where them hustlers dwell,
And the air bears a stench of a corpse's smell.
Homie down on his luck, one foot in a jail,
And, he down to his last, with a quarter to sell.
This right here, world premiere of the last days,
The final paragraphs to the book's last page.
You can feel it comin', no runnin' away.
Let's get free, or let's get paid --
Same shit, different day.

The cornerstone to where I lay
Is shattered glass and crack bags where they play,
And, scattered ass is passed in ridiculous ways.
These cats chef like they Isaac Hayes.
Parallel to the grave.
Stuck in the game with no rules,
And, we're screaming for some water and some edible food.
Man, I'm right there, rabbit ears, nothin' to lose.
This is what you ain't learnin' in school.
I'm tryin' to tell ya, it's hard.

A loaf a bread, milk, and eggs, stick of butter, man --
Somebody mother lies dead in the gutter.
Sherrif down by them kids, talkin' that gutter,
Tell them kids, "Don't look under those covers," man.
Loaf a bread, milk, and eggs, stick of butter, man --
Somebody mother lies dead in the gutter.
Sherrif down by them kids, talkin' that gutter,
Tell them kids, "Don't look under those covers," man.

Black Thought
Check it out,
A child is born, his mother is gone,
He in the middle of it, literally, tusslin' strong
For his life. The tide high in the eye of the storm.
A mannish boy arrive, and the riot is on
With no time to try to respond, or prepare.
'Times it's hard not becomin' a headline,
Or prayin' in the night when it's bedtime,
Or, layin' ya head down,
'Cause you already know what it is, now.

You know a lot of leaders ain't honest,
And, they can't keep a promise.
And, I hate to speak about it,
But, it's all freakanomics.
Cramped and proud of it, you amped and you rowdy,
Treadin' water, tryin' lift up your head without drownin'.
This type of shit can make ya heart stop poundin',
But, you pushin' for the top, too scared to stop.
Now, it get's deep, bodies are floatin' around in the streets.
Lotta people who won't even be around in a week.
Man, get the operation gone.
What y'all waitin' on?
We been patient, y'all mu'fuckas takin' long;
The television gettin' all the information wrong.
Doin' how they do it, gettin' they miseducation on.
They already late --
Somebody been was supposed to regulate
Instead of wait, before they let the levee break.
You try runnin' from the truth, but, it's givin' chase.
Got to ask myself, yo
Is any nigga safe?

A loaf a bread, milk, and eggs, stick of butter, man --
Somebody mother lies dead in the gutter.
Sherrif down by them kids, talkin' that gutter,
Tell them kids, "Don't look under those covers," man.
Loaf a bread, milk, and eggs, stick of butter, man --
Somebody mother lies dead in the gutter.
Sherrif down by them kids, talkin' that gutter,
Tell them kids, "Don't look under those covers," man.
A loaf a bread, milk, and eggs, stick of butter, man --
Somebody mother lies dead in the gutter.
Sherrif down by them kids, talkin' that gutter,
Tell them kids, "Don't look under those covers," man.