Yeah back it up
Vultures of culture
A dollar a rhyme, but we barely get a dime
Uh-huh, check it out
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust? (g'yeah!)
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
Hickory dickory dock
Hand in my pocket, rob me for my chocolate (eheheheh)
Mo' dollars, mo' cents, for the Big Six
Another million led to bled, claimin' innocence
Is it any wonder why black folks goin'' under,
'cause niggas be sold in bundles
No pressure, tell me why they don't care
Rap and RandB pavin' the streets of Bel-Air
From the sales of singers, no longer here
The bigger killer, get the bigger share (eheheheh)
Now the ones I attack, Negroes got their back
No, eighty twenty is a wack contract
Forever lack, the voice of real blacks
Stole rock 'n' roll and ain't gave it back (yea yea)
Started off my defense, now they're the ones I defend against
Who fell up into the tricks
"F*ck the Fight the Power shit, get that Chuck D nigga fixed,
And keep him up out of the mix"
Well hell, tell em Chuck don't suck no dick
Be an ass, and that ass get kicked
Hand in my pocket, rob me for my chocolate
Watch em swindle yo' ass and turn a profit
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
They don't care about me, they don't care about you
They don't care about you and your crew
Your family neighborhood and plus, heh,
They don't give a damn about us
One thing about them, they like to exploit though
Vultures of culture
They like to exploit little suckers
A dollar a rhyme, while we barely get a dime
Profit off the soul of black folk
Turn em into bitches, niggas, and stupid ass jokes
Laugh with us? Or laughin' at us? That's what I'm guessin'
We in the Rutgers program with that question
They came in and sat at the feet (uh-huh)
Of our ancient ancestors, they learned (yeah)
They took it back, they came back, then they imitated (right)
Once they got enough, they came back and destroyed
Laughin' all the way to the bank, remember them own the banks
And them god damn tanks (god damn right)
Now what company do I thank? Ain't this a bitch
Heard they owned slaves, in a ship that sank
Aight aight aight aight yo yo
Where all the Louie's?
Where my Louie's?
Ehehe
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
This to the blues people in the Delta
This for everybody in the 50's that didn't, get their money
Little Richard gettin' half of a penny
All of the super soul singers of the sixties
All the bands of the 70's on the outside lookin' in
All the people that didn't make a dime
Off their session playin'
And even the rappers in the eighties and nineties
Still tryin' to get paid, from what they put in, yeah
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
Hm
Public Enemy - Swindlers Lust Lyrics
Public Enemy - Swindlers Lust Lyrics
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If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Yeah back it up
Vultures of culture
A dollar a rhyme, but we barely get a dime
Uh-huh, check it out
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust? (g'yeah!)
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
Hickory dickory dock
Hand in my pocket, rob me for my chocolate (eheheheh)
Mo' dollars, mo' cents, for the Big Six
Another million led to bled, claimin' innocence
Is it any wonder why black folks goin'' under,
'cause niggas be sold in bundles
No pressure, tell me why they don't care
Rap and RandB pavin' the streets of Bel-Air
From the sales of singers, no longer here
The bigger killer, get the bigger share (eheheheh)
Now the ones I attack, Negroes got their back
No, eighty twenty is a wack contract
Forever lack, the voice of real blacks
Stole rock 'n' roll and ain't gave it back (yea yea)
Started off my defense, now they're the ones I defend against
Who fell up into the tricks
"F*ck the Fight the Power shit, get that Chuck D nigga fixed,
And keep him up out of the mix"
Well hell, tell em Chuck don't suck no dick
Be an ass, and that ass get kicked
Hand in my pocket, rob me for my chocolate
Watch em swindle yo' ass and turn a profit
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
They don't care about me, they don't care about you
They don't care about you and your crew
Your family neighborhood and plus, heh,
They don't give a damn about us
One thing about them, they like to exploit though
Vultures of culture
They like to exploit little suckers
A dollar a rhyme, while we barely get a dime
Profit off the soul of black folk
Turn em into bitches, niggas, and stupid ass jokes
Laugh with us? Or laughin' at us? That's what I'm guessin'
We in the Rutgers program with that question
They came in and sat at the feet (uh-huh)
Of our ancient ancestors, they learned (yeah)
They took it back, they came back, then they imitated (right)
Once they got enough, they came back and destroyed
Laughin' all the way to the bank, remember them own the banks
And them god damn tanks (god damn right)
Now what company do I thank? Ain't this a bitch
Heard they owned slaves, in a ship that sank
Aight aight aight aight yo yo
Where all the Louie's?
Where my Louie's?
Ehehe
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
This to the blues people in the Delta
This for everybody in the 50's that didn't, get their money
Little Richard gettin' half of a penny
All of the super soul singers of the sixties
All the bands of the 70's on the outside lookin' in
All the people that didn't make a dime
Off their session playin'
And even the rappers in the eighties and nineties
Still tryin' to get paid, from what they put in, yeah
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
Hm
Vultures of culture
A dollar a rhyme, but we barely get a dime
Uh-huh, check it out
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust? (g'yeah!)
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
Hickory dickory dock
Hand in my pocket, rob me for my chocolate (eheheheh)
Mo' dollars, mo' cents, for the Big Six
Another million led to bled, claimin' innocence
Is it any wonder why black folks goin'' under,
'cause niggas be sold in bundles
No pressure, tell me why they don't care
Rap and RandB pavin' the streets of Bel-Air
From the sales of singers, no longer here
The bigger killer, get the bigger share (eheheheh)
Now the ones I attack, Negroes got their back
No, eighty twenty is a wack contract
Forever lack, the voice of real blacks
Stole rock 'n' roll and ain't gave it back (yea yea)
Started off my defense, now they're the ones I defend against
Who fell up into the tricks
"F*ck the Fight the Power shit, get that Chuck D nigga fixed,
And keep him up out of the mix"
Well hell, tell em Chuck don't suck no dick
Be an ass, and that ass get kicked
Hand in my pocket, rob me for my chocolate
Watch em swindle yo' ass and turn a profit
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
They don't care about me, they don't care about you
They don't care about you and your crew
Your family neighborhood and plus, heh,
They don't give a damn about us
One thing about them, they like to exploit though
Vultures of culture
They like to exploit little suckers
A dollar a rhyme, while we barely get a dime
Profit off the soul of black folk
Turn em into bitches, niggas, and stupid ass jokes
Laugh with us? Or laughin' at us? That's what I'm guessin'
We in the Rutgers program with that question
They came in and sat at the feet (uh-huh)
Of our ancient ancestors, they learned (yeah)
They took it back, they came back, then they imitated (right)
Once they got enough, they came back and destroyed
Laughin' all the way to the bank, remember them own the banks
And them god damn tanks (god damn right)
Now what company do I thank? Ain't this a bitch
Heard they owned slaves, in a ship that sank
Aight aight aight aight yo yo
Where all the Louie's?
Where my Louie's?
Ehehe
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
This to the blues people in the Delta
This for everybody in the 50's that didn't, get their money
Little Richard gettin' half of a penny
All of the super soul singers of the sixties
All the bands of the 70's on the outside lookin' in
All the people that didn't make a dime
Off their session playin'
And even the rappers in the eighties and nineties
Still tryin' to get paid, from what they put in, yeah
If you don't own the master, then the master own you
Who you trust, from Swindler's Lust?
From the back of the bus, neither one of us
Control the fate of our soul, in Swindler's Lust
Hm
Writer: CARLTON RIDENHOUR, GARY RINALDO
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING