Monte Smith, DJ Vadim - Pullin ya card Lyrics

When it comes to the Word
The Resistance seeks
No cowards, only souljahs
Set free from mental restriction
As you hear me recite ask yourself
Do you fit the description?
Cause I'd rather bathe in rotten pork
Than be a slave to gold chains
And poppin' corks
Matter a fact
Let me rephrase that
I'd rather listen to Dr. York
Than support the commercialism
That's poppin' from L.A. to N.Y.
And to me, that's "real"
Before the movies and deals
The thing to be was a
Ghetto celebrity
Gand you earned that by serving
Every sucka emcee
In a twenty block vicinity
Warehouse parties then were
Rockin' to beats non-stoppin'
Now it's culture shopping
For Whitey, MTV, and
The Corporate Machine
Who thinks it's cool to show
Barney Rubble rocking Gazelles
On your TV screen
And since '93, mixtapes
They don't sound the same to me
I know whites down with
The "N" word and other terms
Like "G" and "Dilly"
Are angry but really
Stop Looking Hard
Since no one to date
Has set the record straight
Monte Smith is pullin' ya card
For the few who idicate
Their life to preserve the plight
Of rap's original sight
And by that, I mean it belongs
To Blacks and Latinos first
Rap is a vocal tool against
The oppression of projects
And Masonomics
The poor then and now are
Treated as objects suitable for
Death and depression
Yet, in 2003 most whites still have questions
But some have answers
Cause I'm not tryin' to see rap lose like
Jazz and Blues to the cancer of
Mainstream dues like you and your
Rap Grammy committees
Marketing the pressures and struggles
Of living in the inner city to
Suburban kiddies smoking Phillies

When it comes to the Word
The Resistance seeks
No cowards, only souljahs
Set free from mental restriction
As you hear me recite ask yourself
Do you fit the description?
Cause I'd rather bathe in rotten pork
Than be a slave to gold chains
And poppin' corks
Matter a fact
Let me rephrase that
I'd rather listen to Dr. York
Than support the commercialism
That's poppin' from L.A. to N.Y.
And to me, that's "real"
Before the movies and deals
The thing to be was a
Ghetto celebrity
Gand you earned that by serving
Every sucka emcee
In a twenty block vicinity
Warehouse parties then were
Rockin' to beats non-stoppin'
Now it's culture shopping
For Whitey, MTV, and
The Corporate Machine
Who thinks it's cool to show
Barney Rubble rocking Gazelles
On your TV screen
And since '93, mixtapes
They don't sound the same to me
I know whites down with
The "N" word and other terms
Like "G" and "Dilly"
Are angry but really
Stop Looking Hard
Since no one to date
Has set the record straight
Monte Smith is pullin' ya card
For the few who idicate
Their life to preserve the plight
Of rap's original sight
And by that, I mean it belongs
To Blacks and Latinos first
Rap is a vocal tool against
The oppression of projects
And Masonomics
The poor then and now are
Treated as objects suitable for
Death and depression
Yet, in 2003 most whites still have questions
But some have answers
Cause I'm not tryin' to see rap lose like
Jazz and Blues to the cancer of
Mainstream dues like you and your
Rap Grammy committees
Marketing the pressures and struggles
Of living in the inner city to
Suburban kiddies smoking Phillies