The Program
Lyrics and Vocals by Emcee Lynx
Instrumental by Emcee Lynx
The UnAmerican LP, 2004

To all the kitty cats talkin’ smack, playing with gats
and radio-show hosts slangin plastic rap
to all the bullshit fantasies, fucked up fallacies
that glorify the gang life, ignore the fatalities
Flip it, I'm spittin scripture, so fuck ya’ll Pharisees
See through the smoke-screen, with focus and clarity
the drug war is fucked up, problematic
I’ve never seen a prison that could cure an addict
We need treatment programs, so I’m spittin slow jams
It’s sick sad sadistic how the system sanctions
Incarceration, privatized prisons
Take a second , do the math, double-check ya vision
Bush was a cokehead, but now he’s president
while 5 million other folks stay permanent residents
Of the 'New South Order,' tax dollars subsidized
while the schools nationwide are getting downsized

So all the breakers in the place, get set to break some shit
Dj’s on the tables, keep on rippin it
Graff cats take it back to the street w/ spray cans
And all ya fake-ass rappers - get with the program

See I’m boastin, coastin, from LA to Oakland
But San Jose, the South Bay, has my devotion
I rock popped collars, hustlers, ballers
Spittin street politics with my self-taught scholars
Ridin on the bus, can’t afford the Impala
But I’m still spittin science to make the crowd holla
Hustling CD’s, I got no job
Late night makin beats, and I’m known to lob
rhymes with precision, my x-ray vision
will cut right through you, without the incision
fission, fusion, crush the illusion
politicians appointed to do the rich mans choosin
“political parties,” we call ‘em Hip Hop shows
And my styles froze foes with all they iced-out clothes
Paying for they own chains to get ‘em made of Gold
But to the record execs, ya’ll are bought and sold

So all the breakers in the place, get set to break some shit
Dj’s on the tables, keep on rippin it
Graff cats take it back to the street w/ spray cans
And all ya fake-ass rappers get with the program

I’m sick of lies and distortion in the corporate news
Sick of working my ass off and getting used
Sick on my boss getting fat while I stay broke
Sick of watching my dreams go up in smoke
Sick of dumb motherfuckers telling me what to think
Seein my friends’ cope with pain by resortin to drink
Seein’ a nation built on Genocide claimin freedom
Callin me a terrorist cause I call ‘em how I see ‘em
Sick of doctors, only in it for a buck
My sister can’t breathe, but they don’t give a fuck
Sick of pharmaceuticals, fat cat lobbyists
Time to burn it all down now, ain’t that obvious?
Sick of progressives, conservatives, the status quo
Sick of censoring myself, so I’m letting go
Sick of bullshit liberals and all their talkin,
Fuck America, I’m finna move to Scotland….