(Hook)
/They take the beauty and kill it/ Till it’s a movie that’s scripted/ A numbing dumbed down feeble soothing depiction/ A revolutionary turned a shirt and a sticker/ A Hot Topic hoodie with the pockets and zipper/

(Crocker)
/Hov turned Guevara's face to an iconic shirt/ The capitalist that he is, boy, that's ironic work/ Please when I die, put my guise on a shirt/ And make it misrepresent and make light of my work/Pac's life they summed up to middle fingers and thugs/ The fact he was a Panther, they belittled and scrubbed/ The origin of Thuggies', that they whittled to nubs/ And left a pissed black male that stomped a Crip with some Bloods/ Peep how they did Bob and his belief in the Ja/ Marley "Ra-sta-far-I", hence weed in his song/ Sang he wanted Brits to go and leave from his home/ Now he's just a poster, with a leaf and a bong/ Kurt's message molested, he's just a emblem of angst/ Here we are, entertain us, turned literal bank/ A man against brands, suffers criminal rape/ His music's for sad teens, now the general take/ Shit, even Jesus Christ is a brand you can bank on/ Brother I would I know, I got one of his tank's on/ Though it's sacrilegious, if you believe and your saved son/ Because you know, Jesus was G-d as man, and it violates one of ten commandments you pray from/

(Kronkite)
/The plight of humanity seems to always damage/ Handles me to a panic, scrambling like I’m this nasty/ Well, yes, of course, I’m white trashy/ But not even I take it to the resort that you take it to/ They’ll probably take my retort and try and make it cool/ XXL, I got to get them magnums out the closet/ For that one name drop, my wallets brain just lost/ In my first video, I sport a jersey from Chris Wallace/ Then his sales go up, and he sees nothing but profit/ The Illuminati seems real/ How the fuck you suppose to overcome a fucking group that’s older than George Washington/ How do you get to decide what to call sacred, not another soul?/ You call that girl a hoe cause she’s dressed in them clothes/ Not knowing she’s got no where to live, and nobody knows/That guy that keeps shaking like he’s shoving shit up his nose/ Really has no health care, unless you have a H.M.O./ The doctors say no, then throws him out in the cold/Bundle up with a North Carolina Tar Heels jersey/ Died on the street with a sign that said, “They never even heard of me.”/ But you walk in them stores, swing open them doors/ And buy a bunch of goodies galore, oh lord/