The only cribs that we should care for
Are the ones that we are here for
Ones belonging to our children
That do what we do, scar from our wounds

The only cribs that make a difference
Where the magic really happens
Don't come with a Mercedes Benz / mercy dispense?/
Or a wide screen / Holy white screen? /, showing nothing
Showing nothing

I'm sick of home-control devices
Sick of sickening home designers
Sick of drugs and gold and street / strip?/ poles
Sick of homies, sick of posers

Despite the nodding staff that serves you
Despite your name on clothes and perfume
Despite the way the press observes / presses serves/ you
You're just people (x 5)

You're just people
Successful people
Dressed-up people
Smiling people
Famous /fameless?/ people
Velvet(???) people
Wealthy people
Important people
But still just people

So f*** the million dollar kitchen
F*** the Al Pacino posters
F*** the drugs, the gold, the street poles
F*** the homies, fuck the posers
F*** the walls they build around them
F*** the bedroom magic nonsense
I don't want to hear their voices
As long as they vote with their wallets

F*** the xxxx
F*** the fancy god damn xxxx smoke
F*** their lack of originality, personality
F*** this travesty