"The Product" lyrics

Are you ready?
Fuck that, Ice Cube coming back at you with another motherfucking bomb

I was told, 'cause I didn't witness the whole act
In and out was the movement of the bozack
It was hot and sweaty and lots of pushin'
Then the nut came gushin'
And it was hell trying to bail to the ovary
With nothing but the Lord lookin over me
I was white with a tail
But when I reached the finish line, young black male!
One cell made two, and two cells made four
And so on, so now I'm a embryo
Then I got a hunch
That I'mma be on lockdown, for nine months
Chillin', with my mother to guide me
And nothing but a stomach to hide me
From all that worry and bullshit
Nine months later, I elbow pull and kick
'Cause my time is up and I don't care
With one big push, I'm outta there
June 15th, it's just my luck
In 1969, a nigga is the product

Ghetto-ass nigga, you ain't shit
And you ain't gon' never be shit!

I learned how to walk and talk and all that
They put me in school, but it don't matter
'Cause I'm sitting in history
Learning 'bout a sucker, who didn't give a fuck about me
They try to shape us
But I know "Uncle Sam" is a motherfucking rapist
So I stopped paying attention
Ice Cube, headed, straight to detention
Fuck that shit, I roam the hallways
I'm sent home and I don't got all "A"s
A high-school dropout
My father had beef so I tried to knock pops out
But I got tossed, he's the boss
I'm out of there and mad 'cause I lost
Now being on my own is a factor
So I become, the neighborhood jacker
Gimme your car, run your jewels
Making a living robbing fools
And if I let my nine rang out
You know, it'll make your brains hang out
So what's your fate?
Am I the nigga you love, or the one you love to hate?
The wrong answer is said, the nigga fled
I pump lead, now he's in a puddle of red
And if you got a buck, you're shit out of luck
Stuck up by the motherfucking product

Uh-uh motherfucker you gots to get a job
If you wanna stay in my motherfucking house

Many young men reject the traditional values
That are important to their parents
Church, school and family
Have been replaced by street, turf, and gang

Twenty-one now, and paid in full
Feeling bad, from all the shit I pulled
On people back in the day
Plus, I got a little baby on the way
So I'm trying to go straight
I'm with my baby's momma, out on a date
'Til the punk-ass cops ran my plate
Now I'm on a bus upstate
"Oh, the young nigga done caught a case!"
Eating in the mess hall, saying my grace
Sent to a concrete ho-house
Where all the products go, no doubt
Yo momma, I gotta do eleven
Living in a five-by-seven
Dear baby, your man's getting worn out
Of seeing young boys getting their assholes torn out
And then he got shanked with a spoon
And he was supposed to get out soon
Is it my fault, he was caught in production
Where a young black life means nothin'
Just because, I didn't want to learn your grammar
You say I'm better off in the slammer
And it's driving me batty
'Cause my little boy, is missing daddy
I'm ashamed, but the fact is
I wish pops let me off on the mattress
Or should I just hang from the top bunk
But that's going out like a punk
My life is fucked
But it ain't my fault, 'cause I'm the motherfucking product
He ain't shit