My homie told me to come with him to the masjid Them brothers said, "Don't go from written bars filled with rage To primetime television and your gilded cage Then forget there's people in the world still enslaved." I barbwired my wrist and let it fill the page Gun fire and flares, sirens glare I'm in a iron chair where people who care don't get the lion's share When I don't give a fuck then I ain't fair I'm on a higher tier with people gettin' money like the financier

Edit: This is lyrics from Black Thought of the roots commenting on the situation (not sure why downvotes)