2 All Serious Thinkers by The UBC (USA) Lyrics
The mind is a terrible thing to waste
Success is the champagne I've yet to taste
The face of a race swiftly turns to waste
Lost without a trace to sudden disgrace
Building a land called knowledge
D-Nasty, hand me a chisel, Caelove, hand me a culture
To call my own, my very own
Not commercialized by an on-mission vulture
Pure like ivory, but it's ebony
Stop telling me it's Harlem's or it's Bed-Stuy's
And it ain't Asia's, it's Africa's
Can't you tell by their formation of the eyes
Earth's my planet, New York's my home
Searching my conscience, serious my thought
Power to the people who are claiming that we're equal
Because superiority in races just shouldn't be taught
I ain't no bandwagon rider on a temporary flame tip that'll eventually burn off
I'm presenting it to you like a friend
Cause to some, militance's a turn-off
I ain't a Marine unless boot camp's in Fort Green
The formula of my rhyme is anger
Ignorance is a disease, right, Mike?
And to it, I'm no stranger
Some would rather not listen, freak it, I'm scrambling
What a brother from UB know?
But jail is justice for those who don't bust this
What I told them 40 tracks ago
Suck your teeth, grab what lies between your briefs
Try to dis, make names, call claims, but remember
January clowns die in December
Because a thinker plays no games
Serious thinkers
The mind is a terrible thing to waste
God bless the child who ain't wild
Heaven, hopefully, will be the place
For me, with spirits that's free and life histories compiled
Metropolis-dwellin', the felons and watermelons
The stereotype, believing the hype
Depraved and the slaved in the home of the brave
Conspiracy to end men of mahogany skin
As I walk through poverty, I see ignorance
Illiteracy, crime activity
Overwhelmed by lust to be Donald Trump
A BMW owner, a dookie chain possessor
A greediness of capitalism, is what I grill
Value system on the lesser
Tricked by the man's master plan
Fell victim in a world of congregation
School, to some, is merely a TV program
To which they turn the station
Without knowledge, like the London Bridge
We come tumbling down, and it tackles
America just becomes a big plantation
With us sentenced to shackles
Serious thinkers
Success is the champagne I've yet to taste
The face of a race swiftly turns to waste
Lost without a trace to sudden disgrace
Building a land called knowledge
D-Nasty, hand me a chisel, Caelove, hand me a culture
To call my own, my very own
Not commercialized by an on-mission vulture
Pure like ivory, but it's ebony
Stop telling me it's Harlem's or it's Bed-Stuy's
And it ain't Asia's, it's Africa's
Can't you tell by their formation of the eyes
Earth's my planet, New York's my home
Searching my conscience, serious my thought
Power to the people who are claiming that we're equal
Because superiority in races just shouldn't be taught
I ain't no bandwagon rider on a temporary flame tip that'll eventually burn off
I'm presenting it to you like a friend
Cause to some, militance's a turn-off
I ain't a Marine unless boot camp's in Fort Green
The formula of my rhyme is anger
Ignorance is a disease, right, Mike?
And to it, I'm no stranger
Some would rather not listen, freak it, I'm scrambling
What a brother from UB know?
But jail is justice for those who don't bust this
What I told them 40 tracks ago
Suck your teeth, grab what lies between your briefs
Try to dis, make names, call claims, but remember
January clowns die in December
Because a thinker plays no games
Serious thinkers
The mind is a terrible thing to waste
God bless the child who ain't wild
Heaven, hopefully, will be the place
For me, with spirits that's free and life histories compiled
Metropolis-dwellin', the felons and watermelons
The stereotype, believing the hype
Depraved and the slaved in the home of the brave
Conspiracy to end men of mahogany skin
As I walk through poverty, I see ignorance
Illiteracy, crime activity
Overwhelmed by lust to be Donald Trump
A BMW owner, a dookie chain possessor
A greediness of capitalism, is what I grill
Value system on the lesser
Tricked by the man's master plan
Fell victim in a world of congregation
School, to some, is merely a TV program
To which they turn the station
Without knowledge, like the London Bridge
We come tumbling down, and it tackles
America just becomes a big plantation
With us sentenced to shackles
Serious thinkers