BBU - I Do This For My Culture [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Hook] x4
I do this
I-I-I do this for my culture
Word to my sistas and my brothas of my colla

[Verse 1: Epic]
Yo my culture’s not a fraud
That’s the brother’s in New York
State field dicks of (?) is from a start
This crack shit tore us apart
Open the heart
And fill it with that green shit
By any means
Gotta flip into some greed shit
It’s a trip to end no “Justify the means,” bitch
Take a look
We got more brothers in jail than college
Big Mama hooked on dope
And life is hell without it
And I doubt it’s ‘cause we like this shit
But we still buy it
Cook it
Bag it up and we light this shit
(?) and the price of it
A&R standing by like I like this shit
Get a house, nigga, stand up, recite this shit
Now the whole world screaming, “Look where hip-hop been!”
Present day, ‘80’s babies on this hip-hop shit
Won’t make the same mistake that our elders did
I know you felt this shit

[Hook]

[Verse 2: Illekt]
Who am I?
The greatest rapper of the century
Essentially, number one draft pick
No, they not benching me
But they mention me when they talk about success
‘Cause I’m Derrick Rose with the flows
And I know that I been blessed
And haters gonna hate so I ain’t gon’ stress
I send a tribe on a quest
Trying to find a vibe that I get when I kick it live
So vicious, I do this
For my mama working late-night two jobs, trying to get a cake (?)
Roaches in the kitchen no pot to piss in
This is how my people still living
And this is for the man selling mangos
Another down the block, selling anything you need
Yo I got your thingle
This is that 5-stripe, one star
Revolutionary thing is like Ellison and (?)
This is more than the music
This is a movement

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Jasson]
I fuck some emo ass niggas and some white-boy killas
Coked out chickas and some skinny-jean sistas
Say what I say just to make you whiteys mad
Could give a goddamn about your street wear and your fads
My color ain’t a trend, my culture ain’t a brand
My president is black, bitch, take it like a man
If you don’t like it, kiss my high-yellow ass
I am what I am: a Reagan baby
White America, maybe ADHD and crazy
28 years old and Jesus still ain’t gon’ save me
So this is for my people of the sun
Who die by the bomb, and live by the gun
And child of the soldiers who be snorting gun powder
And slumdog childrens who will never see Millions
Living in this world always told they the villain
And still you ask why they crash planes into buildings?

[Hook]