Crayola Lyrics by Public Enemy

Crayola Lyrics

    Stax of wax 55 high fulla tracks
    New cats jackin beats from way back
    Pay for play only way to get them platinum plaques
    Clear the racks jobbers slobbin you for tax
    Robbery a&r snobbery
    Shit is killin me softly wit that same damn song
    Makin folk dumber in the summer
    A bummer when they shot willie in that hummer
    Keep it simple stupid means numbers
    Payola dough white owned black radio
    Runnin on empty help go the desperado
    So i bomb the toms and negros who pray to cash flow
    No info to the masses as they shake their asses
    No clue but i can't get my shit up in to you

    Crayola with that same same ol shit
    Crayola with that played playa shit
    Crayola with that kid crayon shit
    Crayola with them ol spray on hits

    All fucked up ways must fall
    Now the industry can't stop me
    A vendetta to make the whole game better
    They get the cheddar
    All i got is a fuckin letter
    What i owe? what am i
    Another number and a ho, they don't know
    Time to see em go like dominoes
    About time cause they endorsed the crime up in the rhyme
    Got these new souls controlled goin outta their mind
    Missed what i said cause they don't even own their own heads
    Go one go all i forgot they made robots outta some of yall
    Today all fucked up ways must fall
    Today is up against the wall
    Misled in the head fucked by quiet storms and love songs
    Noddin heads too hollow forgotten tomorrow
    Swallowing all that shit that's shallow
    Give the baby anything the baby wants
    But that's how them bastards get us up in them caskets
    Try to get me where they want me
    Before some of them jump me
    Go tell em i'm a start a rebellion
    Educate the felons easy on yeah
    Tell em what the fuck am i yellin
    No tellin you got them artists and artificials
    If it ain't right i don't give a damn if it's sellin
    Recruits chasin and racin for that loot
    Usin usual drum loops so i salute my troops
    I don't socialize or mingle, fuck the promotionals
    And you know what and that g-damn single
    And the marketing team for that matter
    It don't matter
    Dj's gettin dimes for time on a platter
    I ain't gotta be high to jack so i hijack
    Fm - radio - eff em turn it around muthafucka
    Gods to niggas, queens to bitches
    Race against time see em all runnin for the riches
    Everything had its chance last dance
    Some things change like them weather forecasts
    Ha funny how shit don't last

    Crayola with that same same ol shit
    Crayola with that played playa shit
    Crayola with that kid crayon shit
    Crayola with them ol spray on hits

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