I pity the punks that partake in the madness  Yangin' the young for their products and profit  The pushers keep pushin' on D and on Jump Street  Pushin' the passive pill, so ya don't need  kids makin' bids with their nine's in their goose downs  'Cause college is pricey and some brothers ain't got none  You try to discern between truth and suggestion  but they bid for your ID via fear of rejection  All I see is outfits and attitudes, congenial criminality  The hidden agenda is a psychic necessity  Hungry minds so sad in the hearts of darkness  manifesting some sort of natural impatience  Deaf MacBeth, scar city, the slasher  Enveloping the b-boy, the doper, the thrasher  Looking to be judged but when judged by the book  Son you're running to the hook  Back with the funk hits, Uncle Huey is back with  the funk hits, and the F.L.C. is coming to grips  with a fist full of funk hits  I got the feel good hit of the year, I got two thumbs up  and I stuck'em in his ear. The man stepped to me,  he wouldn't let it end though, so I threw his ass out  the Roxy Deli window  I ain't pushin' no party, I ain't meddlin' in Saudi,  but i think it's fucked up, what the federal has laid on me  I've been watchin' the news, you're forcing people  to choose between the lesser of two evils; my red, white, and blue  The deceiver's deceiving because the people believe him  Soon the troops'll be bleedin' and their mama's will be grieving  So keep on payin' your taxes, when you don't know the facts  Let the contracts get backed, while your conscience relaxes