Occupations

Let’s see what I’m gon' have for breakfast
Eggs and a well done beat from Evidence
This chef good with his right and left
I just left the studio to pick up a check
From the other studio where I mix celebs
And even there, the music follows me and steers my head
One nation, music the occupation
Under a groove, I gig with the Funkadelic
And at the Cannabis Cup, I was melt baggin'
Give you a touch of the Dutch, Amsterdam Ruby
You’re not fuckin' with us, never since beginning
My clique is one and a must, professional musician
The mission’s all we discuss, devoted technician
To give the people a touch, just a simple listen
They got their ears in these cuffs with all this bullshittin'
Men looking like women, Babylon venom
Ice water in my veins
I’m a fire starter, riot starter, king supreme being
Rather live long than to die a martyr but push it, I’m flyin' farther
Prayer hands pushed together like I’m tryin', Father
Mother Earth’s cryin' harder, children are dyin', mother
And motherfuckers steadily lyin'
Politicians' forked tongues spit poison and keep firing
Rakaa’s moving in between lights flashing and these sirens
Looking out, feeling like Cyrus before the shot rang
Breaking out, feeling like Warriors before the blocks bang
Tryna make it out of the street, make it back to the beach
Power to the people, back within reach
The next step is crucial, analyze the operation
For bigger business than robotics mixed with automation
I’ve seen fear and greed levels that can topple nations
Control the population, this is occupations
My name start with a D, but I’m mainly offense
A style of quality, pure and rich, no nonsense
I am the faculty and the dean of students
I’m the administration and major regime get rooted up outta here
And now we up outta here
The dates on the calendeer—oops, I mean calendar
They used to these amateurs, Defari’s a pro’s pro
A literal one stop for the finest in vocals
Me and Ev, we the locos