This is a song about "Voting rights indict poll tax"

Consolidation of rights leads to fabrication

Swift-made switch blades made a big incision in him

Now if you give us a chance

State this here, you're facing a tax

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

So they quit voting me, so i say fuck cyphers and props,

They mastered legalized theft, they call it income tax

87, brick fare, yeah, i’m talking thirty racks

He pumped reeboks, his uncles pumped packs

And they're robbing our money for tax

Couldn’t adapt to naps, i wear caps

You get paid less than my income tax,

Imma have you on lockdown fuck your civil rights

I'm standing on the field full of land mines

Our rights are what seem to be irrelevant

In this rusty cunt, that won a cup in collectin' dust