[Intro: Richard Pryor] Lotta shit happens, like, being in show business, a lot of shit happens, like, like, I make a lot of money, you know. And I'm really happy about it. And I'm not bragging, I just wanna say something. I make a so– fuck, it's ridiculous! But wait, wait a minute, wait a minute. Hey, if my father was alive today, I would go home and say, "Dad, I wanna tell you how much money I made." You know what he'd say? "You's a lying motherfucker! Joe Louis didn't make that much money. Come in here, get your ass out the house, coming here with that bullshit!" [Verse 1:] Niggas hatin' on me, I ain't used to that, Know a couple people wanna shoot for that, I say "No, no, no, chill, it ain't no need for that", Them niggas tryna blow and ain't need me for that, And if it work for them, well shit, I'm cool with that, 'Cause how they feel, I ain't got shit to do with that, I just sit back on cool and watch my paper stack, And trip off how much bread them crackers take from that. [Chorus:] Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! [Bridge:] It's been a long time since I have felt this way About something but now, but now I'm controllin' my mind, the days are warm, The nights are cold, the lost is found, I'm found. Lord knows I need something to fill this void, Lord knows I need something to fill this void, Lord knows I need something to fill this void, Lord knows I need something to fill this void. [Interlude:] Hell yeah, boy, I'm a goddamn millionaire now! Hell yeah, nigga, they can't tell me shit now, bro, hell no, fuck that! Bitch, got my first mothafuckin' million dollar check, nigga! I'm goddamn lit, boy, you crazy as hell! Hold up, it's my phone real quick, it's my Unc', Uncle Sam and shit. "What's up Unc'? Yup. Hey, I told you that check was comin' in, I gotchu when it came in. Goddamn, I'm a man of my word. Goddamn, I told you I'ma have it, and goddamn, I'ma have it for you. Hell, shit, damn right! Now, how much was it, though? Uh-huh. Huh? Half? Half, nigga? You crazy, boy, you crazy! Bitch, you crazy as fuck. Bitch, bitch, you better suck half my dick!” [Verse 2:] Yeah, I pay taxes, so much taxes, shit don't make sense, Where do my dollars go? You see lately, I ain't been convinced, I guess they say my dollars supposed to build roads and schools, But my niggas barely graduate, they ain't got the tools. Maybe 'cause the tax dollars that I make sure I send Get spent hirin' some teachers that don't look like them, And the curriculum be trickin' them, them dollars I spend Got us learnin' about the heroes with the whitest of skin, One thing about the men that's controllin' the pen That write history, they always seem to white-out they sins. Maybe we'll never see a black man in the White House again, I'll write a check to the IRS, my pockets get slim, Damn, do I even have a say 'bout where it's goin'? Some older nigga told me to start votin', I said, "Democracy is too fuckin' slow", If I'm givin' y'all this hard-earned bread, I wanna know, Better yet, let me decide, bitch, it's 2018, Let me pick the things I'm fundin' from an app on my screen, Better that than lettin' wack congressman I've never seen, Dictate where my money go, straight into the palms of some Money-hungry company that make guns that circulate the country, And then wind up in my hood, makin' bloody clothes. Stray bullet hit a young boy with a snotty nose, From the concrete, he was prolly rose, Now his body froze and nobody knows what to tell his mother, He did good at the white man schools unlike his brother, Who was lost in the streets all day, not usin' rubbers, So right now, he got two on the way, Still sleep on covers in his mama house. She can't take this shit no more, she want him out, On the morning of the funeral, just as she's walkin' out Wipin' tears away, grabbin' her keys and sunglasses, She remember that she gotta file her taxes, damn! [Chorus:] Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
Слова и текст песни J. Cole - BRACKETS принадлежит его авторам.