Your race is betrayed
On the bottom of the food chain, I spit on your grave
You the modern day African capturing slaves
How you live with yourself? You can't escape your face
I put it in the street, they can't escape the taste
There's a dark irony here: Who is the one "capturing slaves," after all? Is it the snitch who helps district attorneys fill prison cells, or is it the dealer who amasses a desperate clientele of addicts? It's a dense moment—one that the pronoun "you" leaves ambiguous—that highlights the album's stone-faced insight into an inner-city economy where black success depends on the exploitation other blacks.
Malice finally acknowledges some psychic trauma, if not regret, on the very last song. "Cruising in the drop and still I feel/ As if I'm nothing more than a hamster in a wheel," he admits.
Enough with the women, they don't see past the chain
I don't see past the ass, two can play the game
Gotta thank God for 'caine, I guess that's the twist
'Cause if I never sold, my rhymes would sound like this
Then he goes silent. It's probably the most haunting moment on the album.
TODAY IN SLATE
Meet the New Bosses
How the Republicans would run the Senate.
The Government Is Giving Millions of Dollars in Electric-Car Subsidies to the Wrong Drivers
Scotland Is Just the Beginning. Expect More Political Earthquakes in Europe.
Cheez-Its. Ritz. Triscuits.
Why all cracker names sound alike.
Friends Was the Last Purely Pleasurable Sitcom
This Whimsical Driverless Car Imagines Transportation in 2059
- Protesters Take to the Streets to Sound Alarm on Climate Change in New York, Across the World
- Knife-Carrying White House Jumper is Vet who Feared “Atmosphere Was Collapsing”
- North Korea: American Sentenced to Hard Labor Wanted to Become “Second Snowden”
- Almost One in Four Americans Support Idea of Splitting From the Union
Did America Get Fat by Drinking Diet Soda?
A high-profile study points the finger at artificial sweeteners.