If

[Hook: x 2] It wasn't for this, it wasn't for that Ohh, best believe a better world [Talib Kweli--talking over chorus] Yes, ladies and gentleman You do have Kenn Starr in the house, Asheru Talib Kweli... [Kenn Starr] If it wasn't for the way that we live Too many single mothers raisin' our kids Too many brothers caged in the Pen Engagin' a bid, enslaved by the pigs If it wasn't for crooked cops that pop shots grazin' our wig That sends slugs reckless, plus these thugs with a death wish That take your life for the ice that flood in your necklace The blood of the helpless and innocent (and innocent) If it wasn't for so-called friends that turned Benedict Snakes in the grass and crabs in the lake 'Cause I'm black and its late, getting' harassed by the Jake Blasted with eight times five, plus one Lethal deposit, reach for your wallet, they bust guns That's why I trust none and I keep to myself I can't blame cats that pack heat in they belt And quick to clap, never givin' in If it wasn't for this and that It'd be a better world that we livin' in [Hook: x 2] [Asheru] If it wasn't for a mic check I wouldn't have a check at all Nowadays you can't live that way The markets way too unstable, there's too many pimp labels Playing rappers like a ho, manhandlin' the dough Demandin' them to go on a track to bring the loot back Now you playing for the team and the captain, that's cream You got the dream to push a mean two-seater With a diva riding shotgun, just to say you got one You make the songs, but labels only want the hot ones Send you back to the drawing board, until you got some Now I guess we got problems Even your all-creative mind ain't enough to try and solve 'em The doors revolvin', younger cats are starvin' They want it more than you, might go to war with you To reap the heap of dough that's at the end of the rainbow You can't be mad, man, that's how the game go [Hook: x 2] [Talib Kweli] (yeah, see'mon!) (yea, here we go, yeah!) I'm about to show you what this black power is Red, black, and green on the wrist how I live In the cold world where we bust off the black llamas Every winter where we lose more son to black mommas If hip-hop got seasons, right now its spring Like when everybody selling death, "kiss the ring" (yeah!) You know how it goes, people change color like autumn Kids learn through experience, fuck what a teacher taught 'em Puff a relief for boredom; rough will release a quarter And the parents who paid enough attention to at least ignore 'em Blowing up mics, throwin' up signs To help niggaz you confusin' it with cryin' The winners write the history books Mystery looks past prisoners of war, that's what my listeners are for Turn the tide on this fuckery, ride on this fuckery You should a never let me in the industry, you're stuck with me [Hook: x 3]