Killer Mike - That's Life Lyrics

Hey, my name's Malik and Killer Mike's my dad
If you don't like what he's sayin', so what
That's life

Told you last tape I'm a killer man
I'm a rapper, what the f*ck do I know
Well I'm also a nigga that
Came off Martin Luther King, man
Son of a dope lady
And I went to f*ckin' Morehouse nigga
I accomplished something
I became something nigga
That's who I am to criticize any nigga
Oprah, Bill, Clinton, Cosby, anybody

The fat bitch singing show over, end opera
Leader of the crack Rat Pack, I Sinatra
They say I dissed Oprah i'm like so what
I never get to jump up and down on a sofa
(that's life) now watch me as I Cruise
Like Tom through the slums
Where the education's poor and
The children growing dumb
In the section of the city
Where saditty's don't come
Where Mr cosby and Ms winfrey won't come
Unless it's a hurricane then FEMA don't come
Coming live from the city where
The Dreamer came from
Standing on the same corners
That he stood upon
I got violence in my waistband
Death in my palm
Ask 'em am I a bad guy, ya goddamn right
I done seen how ya do a
Nigga when he doin' right
The Dream died on a balcony
Standin' at a hotel
Now niggas whippin' coke gel and a O tale
We desegregated - put black with the white
No longer marching for rights
They sparking a pipe (that's life)
Pipe dreams, crack fiends
Cars look like ice cream
Kids see the bling-bling and they
Want them nice things
All cause of tennis shoes our
Kids drop out of schools
They said be like Mike, so ball nigga
(that's life)
Now help me understand something
If you a leader and you really
Mean something to your people
Ain't you supposed to be in
The community with your people?
Ain't you supposed to be there?
Like the only people I see in the communities
Are rappers and ball players
Where the f*ck all y'all doctors?
Where y'all bourgeoisie niggas at?
All the kids got is us, Grind Time rap game

Read an old magazine, check out a new dress
I be havin' conversations with Cornel West
Killer Mike don't give a damn if
It's me ya ain't likin'
The last great debate I had
Was with Michael Eric Dyson
Call me a dumb rapper girl stop, pardon me
You be hard pressed to find
Another rapper smart as me
Maybe Jay-Z, 2Pac, C-U-B-E
But Oprah'd rather put Superhead on TV
Now whatcha white audience gon'
Think about we the same white audience that
Watch Bill O' Reilly
I saw the smirk on they face
When you came at Luda
The same nice ladies that
Forgave Martha Stewart so I can be a crook
Take money off the books
Just as long as I'm liked
By a rich man's wife?
OK, hold up i can't rap about doing crime
But if I actually do crime, and do time
I can come back out and have a TV show
With an all white audience
If I rob shareholders of millions?
But if I rap about getting
Some money on the block it's a problem?
Are you f*ckin' retarded?
I'm not even gonna tell you how
Stupid you are right now
Cause you should already know
Grind Time Rap Game (that's life)

Niecey had a man, not a mouse or a mole
When the pressure come knockin
I ain't runnin in a hole
George Bush don't like blacks
No shit, Sherlock
And his daddy CIA had flooded
The hood with rock
And his momma said the women
Oughta feel at home
Gettin' raped in the bathroom
In the Superdome
The comment Kanye made was damn near right
But Bush hate poor people
Be 'em black or white (that's life)
Hell yeah I said it, cause Oprah won't say it
And Bill won't say it
And they still won't say it
If you really bout intelligence
You really know I'm right
If you lookin' for some leadership
Look for Killer Mike (that's life)
Lookin' for a movement
It's Grind Time Rap Game
Kids see us in the street
And go bang bang bang
They see me on the street and
On the corners they hang
Myspace Grind Time Online, join the gang

Aye man, all you adults out there
All you supposed grown people
Would you please stop lying to young people
Could we please have a
Moment of f*ckin' honesty? You know honesty?
The shit you ask young people
To be with you when
You ask are they havin' sex or doin' drugs?
Could we please stop f*ckin' lying
Like you preachers out there
Who spread the myth
That young boys who sag their
Pants picked that shit up in prison to let
Niggas know they homosexuals
You in your faggot
Twisted mind know that ain't true
You sick f*ck, for even sayin' that shit
We wear our f*ckin' pants big
Because our mothers were too poor
To buy our size
So they had to buy two or three sizes up
Call it what it is nigga: poverty
It's f*ckin' poverty you know poverty
The opposite of the big f*ckin'
Cars and planes you drive mutherf*cka
To all you rich bourgeoisie niggas out there
Stop ignoring your cousins in the ghetto
Because they're there
Stop looking down on 'em
Stop using crack addicts and Mexicans
As cheap labor to build your f*ckin' houses
And then shitting on poor
Black people and Latins you pieces of shit
That's for you rich motherf*ckas:
Black and white in the mean time us rappers
Us lowly b-boys and
Us motherf*ckin' athletes'll
Be here in the ghetto
Servicing the motherf*ckin' children
We are the new Robin Hoods
We are the Pied Pipers
We will lead the kids into a better
Life than the motherf*ckin' lies you doing
Kids grow up, be doctors, be lawyers
Just don't be liars and connivers like
The ones we got now young men, grow up
Be clergymen, be a preacher
Just don't be a motherf*ckin' greedy hog like
Most of the ones we got now
Grind Time Rap Game bang, bang, bang
If you don't like what I'm sayin'that's life