KYLE
Dead Presidents ft. Theory
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(Verse 1):

People depressed and self delivered, trapped up in the heat
Won't stop on the beats till we don't starve in the streets
The laws of defeat, don't understand why we follow them
We get home and get stoned, thats what the fucking problem is
Take off like a rocket ship, won't come down til targets hit
I broke the mirror holding me back as a narcissist
Holding private conferences, fulfill empty promises
Bush talkin shit, but we had funded what Osama did
Glamorized slaves if we chasing the golden chains
#Kevin #Hart hasn't been the same, I put the #soul in #plane
Pumping bass still we saving pipe for life's treble
My soul had a deep conversation with the fuckin Devil
I don't do it for the industury
I do it for the undergroud rappers spitting in the streets
The other factions, hand on the black magnum
Speak English when I run through like Sam Jackson
Ransacking the Feds, pants saggin and hands grabbin
Running through Ferguson, can't handle the Grand Dragon
Shoot past like the bullet near Suge Knight's head
I been through this hood life, I'll leave you shook right there
But I got to much to lose, I need my grandma to hug me
Amongst thieves, the life of vice runs throughout my bloodstream
Refuse to stop spitting raw rhymes til my tongue bleeds
Behind the scenes to hide the drugs from the eyes of fiends

(Hook x2)
Is there heaven for us hip-hop heathens
Big Pop and Pac, even Eazy had 'em leanin'
We all children lookin' for a reason
What do you believe in, betrayal, treason?

(Bridge x2)
I'm out for dead presidency
I'm out for dead presidency
I'm out for dead presidency
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents that represent me


(Verse 2):

Seen too many n***as fall to that dope slangin'
Corporate America had left us on that rope hangin'
And ain't nobody seen it like I've ever seen it
You had the ghetto fiending, plus it, methamphatine it
Droppin these like Socrates, grab a oxygen mask
You couldn't understand my shit in your philosophy class
Saw my Grandpa fall to every single shot in that glass
Till he was hooked up with a needle and colostomy bag
And tell my homie Joey that'll I'll see him up in heaven
And ask if there, they have thugs who run with Mac-11's
Attack a reverend if he's preaching that bullshit
Everyone got a blast for me, religion's full clip
Dead presidents I wanted all my fuckin' life
Now I've seen my homies fall to that, it ain't nothing nice
Thieves in the night, yo we want what we can't have
So he's behind the damn facade, time to stand back
You tell me I'm conscious, my conscious could swear by me
Dear diary, I only see the signs that's rushing by me
If we chase whips and chains, all we are a mental slave?
My Grandma told me I was a God, I'll take that to the grave
Spent my life tryna slide-by, on the high rise
Playing that piano, homies fall to the drive-by
Terrorists, fences and terraces, and evidently
I always wanted dead presidents to represent me, but shit

(Hook x2)
Is there heaven for us hip-hop heathens
Big Pop and Pac, even Eazy had 'em leanin'
We all children lookin' for a reason
What do you believe in, betrayal, treason?

(Bridge x2)
I'm out for dead presidency
I'm out for dead presidency
I'm out for dead presidency
I'm out for dead fuckin' presidents that represent me