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a buck and change - baba brinkman lyrics

i seen a lot of people caught up in a sea of greed and profit
feedin’ off of weakness like it’s nothin’ strange
sippin’ on a gin and tonic thinking they’re invincible
and when it bottoms out they’re worth a buck and change

i saw a banker groveling like a beggar on tv
offering a sovereign nation his solemn apology
for trading on their freedom and treating it irresponsibly
and all the people watched him with their wallets on e
and with their jobs disappearing like they were lost in a dream
and his face was a combination of withdrawal and need
and alienation, he got a taste for autonomy
and deregulated trading based on foreign policy
just a player in the intoxication economy
speculating away with a cadre of freaks
and chasing the promise of personal liberation constantly
and following it into a place of bottomless greed
and now this banker was on his knees, begging the people watching
not to take away his audi keys, not to make him pay
for administrating his office in a state of unconscious sleep
but the people were angry, and they hated hypocrisy
and instead of naked honesty, the banker was making
himself out to be a great martyr like st. augustine
and they wondered, how did this monster get off his leash?
we should make some changes to this game in which we all compete
but some of them were into watching situation comedies
instead of taking politics to the streets, they couldn’t see
that watchin’ the play of shadows on the walls of a cave is obsolete
so the changes weren’t made and the banker walked free

i’ve been crackin’ jokes and havin’ loads of plans but no cash
i’m known for p-ssin’ notes in cl-ss and goin’ back to old c-ss-
anova tactics holdin’ hands and poems and that’s my only p-ssion
so my rap is hope in action; no relaxin’ though, i’m smashin’
holes fast in open caskets, slow dancin’ over scattered
broken gl-ss; i’m cold mol-sses; no fashion moguls have
my clothes; i’m happy sowin’ patches, i don’t have a home; i’d rather
roam the map with no attachments; so i’m a laughin’ nomad
though i travel lonely paths and roads that average joes can’t
i won’t collapse and go flaccid; no chance; it won’t happen
only after no challenge known to man goes unmastered
only after more than half my bones are fractured; only p-ssive
goats and cattle go to pasture; no one asked for prose; they asked
for smokin’ raps like solar flashes flowin’ past the globe’s axis
so i task my overactive dome with matchin’ no one’s standards
and only hatchin’ poems that have the motions of explosive g-sses

- baba brinkman lyrics

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