Generic Hip Hop Artist

Clock in, repeat the script, Press “A” to smile, don’t quit. Your quest log’s filled with errands That no one asked you to commit. Grinding levels, earning gold, Not a story, just control. Selling hours of your soul, For a role you never chose. Employees or NPCs? Marching loops on broken streets. Jobs that don’t need to exist, But keep the bosses rich. Who’s the hero, who’s the pawn? Who gets written, who’s just drawn? Employees or NPCs — Can you tell which side you’re on? Give for free, they call it “waste,” But chained for pay, it’s “hard work’s grace.” Charity’s a glitch, they say, Better sell your time away. Push the cart, repeat the line, Trade your spark for their design. An endless cycle, out of sync, Factory dreams that make you shrink. Employees or NPCs? Scripted lives, no agency. Soulless labor, ticking clocks, Chained inside invisible locks. Who’s the player, who’s the game? Different faces, all the same. Employees or NPCs — Just a crowd with borrowed names. Press start, load save, Wake up, behave. Is it freedom, is it wage? Just another pre-set stage. What’s the quest you’d write instead, If not the one inside your head? Would you still repeat this scene, Or finally break routine? Employees or NPCs? Grinding lives for currencies. Work for money, not for need, Starving purpose, feeding greed. Who’s alive and who just spawns, Fading in when shift comes on? Employees or NPCs — Either way, the crowd moves on.

We’re mirrors of the streets we walk, Shadows echo how we’re taught. Born in silence, raised in noise, Given weapons, not real choice. If hate’s the language we’re handed down, Then love’s a stranger never found. How can we act beyond the frame, When the picture’s painted just the same? We reflect the world around us, Broken glass becomes our crown. Blame the mirror, not the painter, When the system drags us down. If the poor are judged for violence, But the rich walk free with lies, Tell me who’s the real offender— The one who starves, or the one who thrives? The cages built are called our homes, Where hunger’s seed is overgrown. Expecting saints from poisoned wells, Is just a story power sells. A murderer’s hand, a thief’s regret, A rapist’s crime, society’s debt— But the boardroom’s greed, the courtroom’s game, Never wear the mark of shame. We reflect the world around us, Broken glass becomes our crown. Blame the mirror, not the painter, When the system drags us down. If the poor are judged for violence, But the rich walk free with lies, Tell me who’s the real offender— The one who starves, or the one who thrives? You cannot plant in barren soil And expect a rose to bloom. Don’t curse the child who grows in fire, When you built the fiery room. What we call crime is just the sign Of the sickness in our frame. Until we change the world we make, The actors play the same. We reflect the world around us, Every scar a painted face. Blame the mirror, not the painter, Blame the system, not the case. If the poor are judged for violence, While the rich escape the fight, Then justice is just a curtain, Drawn to hide the light.

“Resurrect the Lesson” Verse 1 They put a halo on the podium, a seal upon the name, Built a steeple out of doctrine, then wrote themselves the claim. They traded linen for the ledger, prayers for passing dues, Turned a teacher’s gentle whisper into laws they could abuse. Pre-chorus But he said, “Love your neighbor, love the one who hates you so,” Not bow to golden empires or the men who pull the show. Chorus Don’t worship the portrait — learn what the picture shows. Don’t worship the voice that tells you who to dispose. The man gave us a lesson; the lesson was the plan: Love breaks every chain — resurrect it, while you can. Verse 2 They wrapped a story in a banner, sold salvation for a fee, Made commandments into currency and miracles bureaucracy. They seat their prophets on high pedestals to keep the people small, While the teaching that could free us gathers dust upon the wall. Pre-chorus He taught the poor are palace, taught the meek will stand up tall, Not crowns of flesh or parades — but freedom after all. Chorus Don’t worship the portrait — learn what the picture shows. Don’t worship the voice that tells you who to dispose. The man gave us a lesson; the lesson was the plan: Love breaks every chain — resurrect it, while you can. Bridge They silenced marching footsteps, they cut the singer’s throat, They buried voices in the dark that used to sing and float. King’s sermon rose in footsteps, Lennon’s song became the spark, Gandhi’s quiet thunder moved a nation from the dark. Breakdown (spoken or soft) You can murder a man, you can burn down a song, But you cannot bury truth, it keeps moving along. Their empires worry over what their statutes cannot hold — The truth is not a trophy; the truth is not for sold. Chorus (big) Don’t worship the portrait — learn what the picture shows. Don’t crown the messenger and forget the garden grows. The man gave us a lesson; the lesson is the plan: Love breaks every chain — resurrect it, while you can. Outro / Coda So fold up your gold, let the pulpit be unmasked, Teach the children something honest — let the old systems pass. When music, words, and footsteps knit the broken into one, Resurrection is the chorus — the lesson marches on.

Money ain’t wealth, it’s a note that you owe, Every dollar in your hand got a chain on the flow. They print it as debt, add the interest too, So the math locks the masses in a system they can’t chew. The banks make the money, lend it out for a fee, But the interest ain’t printed — where’s it come from, G? It comes from your labor, your grind, your sweat, But the gap just widens, that’s the system’s bet. Money is debt, poverty’s enforced, The rich ride high while the poor off course. The gap gets bigger, society cracks, Health declines, crime climbs, that’s the facts. It’s wealth transfer, top to the few, The rules rigged heavy, that’s nothing new. The poor pay more, the rich collect rent, That compound interest’s where your life gets spent. Markets disguise it like freedom of choice, But the poor man’s voice drowned out by the noise. Inequality rises, sickness in the street, Broken homes, cold bones, justice on repeat. Money is debt, poverty’s enforced, The rich ride high while the poor off course. The gap gets bigger, society cracks, Health declines, crime climbs, that’s the facts. Mathematics don’t lie, the numbers confess, There ain’t enough money to pay off the debt. So somebody sinks while another man floats, That’s how poverty’s baked in the system’s notes. Till we see the lie and rewrite the game, We’ll be slaves to the cycle, different mask, same chain. Money ain’t neutral, it’s a rigged roulette, Remember every dollar is a piece of debt.

[Verse 1] They told us “that’s just human nature,” but we’ve been misled, When systems breed behavior, that’s what spreads. Competition, greed — the symptoms we see, Are reflections of an economy, not humanity. From schools to screens, they train compliance, While poverty’s solved by collective science. You can’t buy freedom, it’s not for sale, When empathy reigns, no one will fail. [Pre-Chorus] Automation, innovation — time to realign, Technology serving all of humankind. Beyond the profit motive, beyond control, It’s time we start designing for the whole. [Chorus] The Zeitgeist Movement — an education initiative, To make our culture truly transformative. The Venus Project — a design worth exploring, A dream of peace where hope is soaring. A public switched on needs no control, With knowledge and love to make us whole. [Verse 2] Imagine cities built with balance and grace, No pollution, no hunger, no paper chase. Machines do the labor, people create, No rich, no poor, just a fairer state. Science applied for the good of all, No markets rising while others fall. From automation to social change, We redesign the world — time to rearrange. [Pre-Chorus] From the classroom to the open mind, The truth was there, we just had to find. A system based on empathy and trust, Sustainability — not endless lust. [Chorus] The Zeitgeist Movement — an education initiative, To make our culture truly transformative. The Venus Project — a design worth exploring, A dream of peace where hope is soaring. A public switched on needs no control, With knowledge and love to make us whole. [Bridge] No flags, no fear, no profit chain, No wars for oil, no hidden pain. From scarcity’s myth to abundance truth, We teach our elders and inspire our youth. The media won’t show this vision clear, But the world we want is already near. [Final Chorus / Outro] The Zeitgeist Movement — an education initiative, To make our culture truly transformative. The Venus Project — a design worth exploring, A dream of peace where hope is soaring. A public switched on needs no control, With knowledge and love to make us whole. We are the future, the cultural shift, From fear and profit — to humanity’s gift.

They said love your enemies, turn the other cheek, A whisper in the ages, words from the meek. Someone wrote it down, it spread through the land, But power took the story and twisted his hand. They built golden temples, sold faith like a crown, While the real words of mercy were watered down. But beneath the stained glass and the silver cross, The voice of the rebel still cuts through the gloss. You can crucify the body, but the truth won’t stay buried, It walks through time, unchained, uncarried. From Galilee to Memphis, to New York streets, It’s the same old heart with a thousand beats. They can silence the singer, but not the song, Love lives on, love lives on. A dreamer said imagine, a preacher said I have a dream, A man in cloth walked barefoot by a mountain stream. They all faced the empire, they all met the gun, But light has a way of outshining the sun. The church and the market, the law and the state, Try to own the meaning, to regulate grace. But love’s not a doctrine, or something you sell, It’s the fire that burns in the heart of hell. You can crucify the body, but the truth won’t stay buried, It walks through time, unchained, uncarried. From Calvary to Delhi, from Selma to song, It’s the same old truth that’s been burning so long. They can silence the singer, but not the song, Love lives on, love lives on. Maybe heaven’s not a place above, But the courage to stand in the name of love. The truth doesn’t kneel, it doesn’t fade, It’s the resurrection every time we’re brave. You can crucify the body, but the truth won’t stay buried, It’s the pulse of the people, the light we carry. From Lennon’s piano to Gandhi’s prayer, To the cross on the hill — it’s the same love there. They can silence the prophet, but not the dawn, Love lives on… love lives on.

Why do religious straight men have gay love for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. Why do religious straight men fall down on their knees for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. Why do religious straight men kneel and weep for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. The torture comes so slow, it’s dressed up as grace— They start with the lonely, the lost, the out of place. A broken world, the perfect ground to sow, A church door open, and in you go. They shower you with love, with smiles and praise, Till you’re bonded tight in their holy haze. Then come the rules to keep that glow: Say you love Jesus, and make your donations flow. They break straight men till they can’t tell If what they feel is heaven or hell. He thinks he’s found brothers, a place to belong, But he’s learning to suffer and call it strong. He’s taught to doubt, to kneel, to bleed, To call his own repression a noble creed. Like trolls who hurt to feel alive, They call it love, but it’s just survive. Why do religious straight men have gay love for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. Why do religious straight men fall down on their knees for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. Why do religious straight men kneel and weep for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. They say it's free will, But the pressure is immense. Obey, submit, repeat the creed— It never makes much sense. They promise peace and purpose, But guilt is the real prize, You’re told you're broken from the start, But you’re saved if you comply. They teach you that desire Is wicked, flawed, and base, Then shame you for your nature While smiling in your face. They twist your inner struggle To fit their sacred plan, Till you mistake submission For becoming a better man. Why do religious straight men have gay love for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. Why do religious straight men fall down on their knees for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him. Why do religious straight men kneel and weep for Jesus? it's Cause they’ve been tortured till they say they love him.

yo, let's learn the alphabet. Whether you're a child or an adult learning English. yo here's how it goes: A is for apple, it’s a red fruit B is for bus that’s electric and mute C is for cat with a cool attitude D is for drum that drops the beat, dude! E is for elephant, big and gray F is for frog that jumps all day G is for guitar, strum that chord H is for house where love is stored I is for igloo cold and white J is for jelly that's sweet and bright K is for kite flying high in the sky L is for lion with a mighty roar cry M is for moon that shines at night N is for ninja moving outta sight O is for octopus, eight-leg glide P is for panda with bamboo pride Q is for queen with a golden crown R is for robot breakin’ it down S is for sun that lights the way T is for train that chugs all day U is for umbrella in the rain V is for volcano — BOOM! — insane! W is for whale swimming in the sea X is for xylophone — play it for me! Y is for yo-yo spinning so fast Z is for zebra, black-and-white class We went A to Z, now you know the score Let’s rap the alphabet — one time more! A-B-C, come rap with me We’re learning letters to a funky beat! A-B-C, from A to Z, Knowledge is power — now you’re free!

Yeah... They say it's for the kids But we see what it is... Eyes open. Mic on. They say, “Show us your face, hand ID at the gate,” Claim it's for kid safety — but that line feels fake. Every click’s now a trace, every meme's now a case, If your joke hits a nerve, you’re erased with no grace. Private firms hold your name, birthdate and your place, Now that’s more than a platform — that’s a digital cage. Can’t laugh at the crown, can't clown the elite, Thought-police with receipts, in your DMs and tweets. They say it’s the kids — “Protect 'em from harm,” But Wi-Fi ain't free, it don’t grow on a farm. You need bills, you need wires, you need names for the net, So how's a kid gonna log on and place that bet? No ID for my mind, no barcode for my soul, I was born free — ain’t lettin’ Big Brother scroll. You want safety? Then fix up the home, Not build firewalls 'round the Google Chrome. Keep your checks, I just wanna be me, Let me joke, let me post, let me speak freely. If your power breaks from a meme, it's fraud, ‘Cause a throne that can’t laugh ain’t a throne, it’s a god. Seen porn as a kid, saw Casino too, But love at the table gave me a better view. Don’t blame the net — blame the structure you built, Where families break under pressure and guilt. Equality's the cure, not a login form, Not tracking IPs in a digital storm. You can ban, you can scan, you can claim you care, But a mask on a wound still leaves it bare. Let parents guide, not governments decide, Don’t hand my info to some corp worldwide. Now we diving in TOR just to dodge your law, And the kids you “protect” see more than before. You tighten control, and the people adapt. Underground grows, while the white net cracks. You can't police trauma with terms of use. You fix the root — or the poison gets loose. Now they gatekeep the web like it’s contraband, Need a license to scroll? That ain’t part of the plan. Only adults can buy it — the broadband line, But now I need ID just to comment online? This ain’t safety, it’s a digital wall, Turnin’ net into prison, surveillance for all. You scare folks off, they'll just log out and bounce, No one gonna tag in when the cost too mounts. This ain’t progress — it’s a silent retreat, Where speech dies slow in a terms-of-use sheet. The web was the voice of the voiceless crowd, Now it’s muted by IDs just to speak out loud. What you kill ain't just memes — it's the net itself, An open world shrunk down and shelved. You say it's safety, but it feels like theft, Of the last free space that the people had left. Anonymity ain’t the threat — it’s the shield. Against those who forget how the truth gets revealed. So before you ID the net like a border, Fix the homes, fix the love, fix the order.

I asked her for a hug, just a little squeeze, She said, "That's harassment, get away from me, please!" Tried to hold her hand, just to feel some grace, She called the cops, said I’m "invading her space." So I sat in my room, full of rage and despair, Wrote down my thoughts—"Would anybody care?" If I scream at the world through a letterbox slot, Would they lock me up? Yeah, probably—a lot. "Can I lick your cunt? I’ll pay you a ton!" Slip it in your mailbox just for fun. The cops kicked my door, said, "This is a crime!" But a loveless world? That’s the real damn slime. They dragged me downtown, read me my rights, "You can’t say that stuff, it gives women frights!" I said, "Officer, please, don’t you see the joke? A society this cold is what makes folks broke." No touch, no love, just swipe left and right, We’re all so lonely but "that’s modern life." So I’ll sit in my cell with my paper and pen, Writing more letters to do it again! "Can I lick your cunt? I’ll pay you a ton!" Slip it in your mailbox just for fun. The cops kicked my door, said, "This is a crime!" But a loveless world? That’s the real damn slime. So here’s my fine, here’s my shame, At least I tried to play the game. But if love’s a crime, then lock me tight— I’d rather be crazy than die of spite. Although I was rude and they said “that’s wrong,” women praise a killer, like he belongs. four thousand letters, they draw hearts in red, To a man who left two angels dead. Although I was rude, maybe too real, Now I'm the weirdo with a court appeal. Meanwhile, Ted Bundy fan clubs thrive, While I’m banned from Tinder just for being alive.