Peruvian Cocaine

I've heard whispers about the financial support

your government receives from the drug industry.

Well, the irony of this, of course, is that

this money, which is in the billions, is coming from

your country. You see, you are the major purchaser of

our national product, which is of course cocaine.

On one hand, you're saying the United States

government is spending millions of dollars to

eliminate the flow of drugs onto our streets. At the

same time, we are doing business with the very same

government that is flooding our streets with cocaine.

Mmm-hmm, si, si. Let me show you a few other

characters that are involved in this tragic comedy.

I'm on the border of Bolivia, working for pennies

Treated like a slave, the coca fields have to be ready

The spirit of my people is starving, broken and sweaty

Dreaming about revolution (REVOLUTION!) looking at my machete

But the workload is too heavy to rise up in arms

And if I ran away, I know they'd probably murder my moms

So I pray to "Jesus Cristo" when I go to the mission

Process the cocaine, paste and play my position

OK, listen Juan Valdez, just give me my product

Before we chop off ya hands for worker's misconduct

I got the power to shoot a copper, and not get charged

And it would be sad to see your family in front of a firing squad

So to feed your kids, I need these bricks

40 tons in total, let me test it, indeed I

Shit, this is good, pass me a tissue

And don't worry about them, I paid off the officials

Yo, it don't come as a challenge, I'm the son of some of the foulest

Elected by my people...the only one on the ballot

Born and bred to consult with feds, I laugh at fate

And assassinate my predecessor to have his place

In a third-world fascist state, lock the nation

With 90% of the wealth in 10% of the population

The Central Intelligence Agency takes weight faithfully

The finest type of China white and cocaine you'll see

Honey I'm home, nevermind why our bank account's suddenly grown

It's funny, we're so out of this debt from this money we owe

Would've ya...mind if I told you I had two governments overthrown

To keep our son enrolled in a private school, and to keep ya tummy swollen

C'mon, our fuckin' home was built on the foundation of bloody throats

The hungry stolen of they souls, of course this country's runnin' coke

I took a stunted oath to hush the one's who know

But CIA conducts the flow of these young hustlers who lust for dough

I don't work in the hood (Hit my connect)

Plus what's really good, they supply for the hood

These dudes fucking crack me up, scrutinize like we inferior

Petrified when we meet in my area (calm down)

My dude's'll shoot until I say so, got the loot?

Give me the YAY YAY like Ice Cube, so don't play with my llello

We won't stop for you bastards

Must choose (?), chop it and bag it

Taking pictures and tapping phones

Debating snitches and cracking codes

Past a couple, blast the fo',

Want any hustler stacking dough with probably crack the blow

And my overtime is where your taxes go

I gain your trust

Get you to hand weight to us because we paid up front

On the low with cameras taping ya

Getting pop away? The prison sentence is going to

Make the officer leave with two ki's out the evidence room

Out the evidence room

Went my fame, truck, boat or plane, they watching you

You think you got work? They copping too

We control blocks, they lock countries

Ya own companies, we had nice cars and sneaker money

Now there's players out there, talking 'bout the holding

With bugs in they house like they down South with windows open

Your dough ain't long, you wrong, you take shorts and (?)

Feds will be up in your mouth...like forks and spoons

So enjoy the rush, live plush off Coke bread

Soon you'll be in a cell with me, like Jenny Lopez

In school, I was a bully, now life is fully a joke

I keep a flow on a boat for Peruvian Coke

Players do favors for governors and tax makers

Fat Quakers smoke crack and sex acts with bad mayors

The walls got ears, you big mouths probably scared

Not prepared to do years like Javier

The story just told is an example of the path that

drugs take on their way to every neighborhood, in

every state of this country. It's a lot deeper than

the niggas on your block. So when they point the

finger at you, brother men, this is what you've got to tell them:

I'm not guilty. YOU'RE the one that's guilty. The

lawmakers, the politicians, the Colombian drug lords,

all you who lobby against making drugs legal. Just

like you did with alcohol during the prohibition.

You're the one who's guilty. I mean, c'mon, let's kick

the ballistics here: Ain't no Uzi's made in Harlem.

Not one of us in here owns a poppy field. This thing

is bigger than (Immortal Technique). This is big

business. This is the American way.