Home   Artists: C   Coup   Underdogs Print     Save    Mail     
Coup: Underdogs lyrics


This is for my folkers who got bills overdue

This is for my folkers, um, check one two

This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog

Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

*repeat chorus*

I raise this glass for the ones who die meaninglessly

And the newborns who get fed intravenously

Somebody's mom caught a job and a welfare fraud case

When she breathe she swear it feels like plastic wrap around her face

Lights turned off and its the third month the rent is late

Thoughts of being homeless, crying till you hyperventilate

Despair permeates the air then sets in your ear

The kids play with that one toy they learned how to share

Coming home don't never seem to be a celebration

Bills they piled up on the coffee table like they're decorations

Big ol' spoons of peanut butter, big ass glass of water

Makes the hunger subside, save the real food for your daughter

You feel like swingin haymakers at a moving truck

You feel like laughing so it seems like you don't give a fuck

You feel like getting so high you smoke a whole damn crop

You feel like crying but you think that you might never stop

Homes with no heat stiffen your joints like arthritis

If this was fiction, it'd be easier to write this

Some folks try to front like they so above you

They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you


There's certain tricks of the trade to try and hault your defeat

Like taking tupperware to an "all you can eat"

Returning used shit for new saying you lost your receipt

And writing four figure checks when your accounts deplete

Then all your problems pile up about a mile up

Thinkin about a partner you can dial up to help you out this foul stuff

Whole family sleepin on a futon while you're clippin coupons

Eatin salad tryin to get full off the croutons

'Crosstown, the situation is identical

Somebody's getting strangled by the system and its tentacles

Misconceptions raise questions to be solved

Alot of b-boys are broke, alot of homeless got jobs

You can make 8 bones an hour till you pass out and still be assed out

Most pyramid schemes don't let you cash out

They say this generation makes the harmony pray

But crime rises consistent with the povery rate

You take the workers and jobs, you're gonna have murders and mobs

A gang of preachers screamin sermons over murmurs and sobs

Saying pray for a change from the Lord above you

They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you


You like this song cause it relates, it's you in this rhyme

We go to stores that only let us in two at a time

We live in places where it costs to get your check cashed

Arguements about money usually drown out the tec blasts

Work six days a week, can't sleep Saturdays though

Muscles tremblin like a pager when the battery's low

And you just don't know where the years went

Although every long shift feels like a year spent

And you can write your resume, but it wouldn't even mention

All the life lessons learned doing six years of detention

Or how you learned the police was just some handicappers

On the ground next to broken glass and candy wrappers

Now don't accept my collects on the phone

Just hit me at the house so I know I ain't alone

And we can chop it up about this messed up system

Homies that's been killed, how we always gonna miss them

It's almost impossible survivin on this fraction

Sip a 40 to the brain for the chemical reaction

You gotta hustle cause they're tryin to push and shove you

I'll tear this motherfucker up since I really love you