Got to get away
Got to get away from yourself, escapism
Uh, get away, c'mon
Uh, got to get away from yourself baby
Got to get out
Uh, get out
Is the groove good to you like when you lose your thing
Forgetting grits is grocery and eggs is poultry
Making a living against those making a killing
Super black man got your back and is back in the building
If the prison is that skin you in
And your cell is sitting up inside your skull
They say you can't get away from your damn self
When your earth is heaven and your world be hell
Check your head because Armageddon's at the foot of your bed
You ain't heard a word I said
Forget them slacks I'm that throwback
That threw that throwback
Back on the racks to get my mind back
Oh say, can you see
I get back its still black and white, uh, like an old TV
In lyin' color brother
Gots to getaway to the other side, uh
Talk about escapism
Got to c'mon now
Escapism
Gotta get away
Uh, talk about?
Uh, got to get out of myself baby
There must be some kind of way up out of here
You see, I never was too good off the top of my head
'Cause I want y'all to know exactly what I said
This so-called war in Iraq, over a thousand dead
That's ten a week, even as I speak
Now thirty-three percent of black males in jail
That's fifty-five percent of black students will fail
They say eighty-five percent of Black folks forgot
We were slaves once up inside this box
America got folks' brains on lock
Forget the connects, some wanna buy what's next
Wear it like some sign up in that chest
Y'all should know papa don't take no mess
If you think your past is irrelevant
Don't you know your old soul really pays the goddamn rent?
That messiah ain't never gonna come
As long as you thinking freedom is free to being dumb (boy)
C'mon, escapism
C'mon now
Escapism
There must be some kind of way up out of here
C'mon now
Escapism, gotta get away
Uh, talk about?
Uh, got to get out of myself
Baby, talk about?
Oh wait
There must be some kind of way up out of here
You say that soul is back so flip them hits back
Damn the fashion (I wanna know where's the passion)
Thinking we came a long way baby
Saying poor Michael's psycho and Prince, he's crazy
But what has Bob Mick Sir Paul done for you lately?
(How they maintain on your brain seems to escape me)
Heard some ghetto cats don't like metal rap
(Hear it and fear it and some think it's all wack)
They don't even know (that the blues is black)
And when I rap, I go back to the roots where I be at
Not some thirty year old who don't know facts
(Who's wild saying things like some juvenile)
Remember two million black folks in the penile
Got a world of white folks thinking it's style
Think I'm hating 'cause you lackin' the information
'Cause we the FBI still got on file
Escapism c'mon now
Gotta get away
Gotta get out of myself, uh
C'mon, yeah
Uh, c'mon now
♪
Escapism
Gotta get out of myself baby, baby
Gotta get out of myself baby
(Here it comes)
(Here it comes)
But the one here that's real hot right now is Public Enemy
Why don't we play a little taste of it, why not?