Beat: A chaotic, shifting production. It starts with a cinematic, West Coast bassline and jazz horns, transitions into a dark, rapid-fire Detroit synth loop, and finishes with a booming, classic New York breakbeat.) (Verse 1 – Kendrick Lamar Style) (Beat: Smooth but tense, heavy sub-bass and a distant saxophone crying) Look. I see the ghost of the ghetto inside the grocery aisles Washing the pigment off of the dollar, it’s been a trial A systematic chokehold, they hold the remote control We trade our blood for the oil, they trading stock for your soul The prophet told me that the middle is just a killing floor Sandwiched between the destitution and the corporate war Section 8 pushing upward to the cul-de-sac But the cul-de-sac is foreclosed, how you combat that? Corporate feudalism masquerading as the American Dream They steep the tea leaves in the sweat of the working team Billionaires building rockets, trying to flee the planet While the mother on the ground is scraping clean the granite Pumping premium gas with a regular wage We ain't citizens no more, we just characters trapped on their stage They tell me, "Kung Fu Kenny, just be grateful you made it out" But how can I celebrate when the valley is in a drought? The rich man's ledger is a testament to greed They feed the monster everything that the children actually need. (Chorus – Collective Anthem) (The beat swells, mixing all three regions) We punch the clock, but the clock punches back They build a vault while we fill up the crack From the corner to the penthouse, the distance is vast How long can the middle of the pendulum last? Yeah, the ceiling's getting lower while the penthouse grows That's just how the economic story goes. (Verse 2 – Eminem Style) (Beat shifts abruptly: Fast-paced, aggressive, ticking hi-hats and a haunting piano loop) Statistically speaking, it’s sickening, listening to the elite Who are trickling down all their misery onto the street With a tax code that’s written to hiddenly benefit digits Of bigots who live in a bliss while the middle class fidgets! I’m ballistic! Looking at the bill for the electricity Simplicity is dead, replaced by corporate complicity They double the price of a loaf of bread, then they tell us instead To just budget our bread, while we’re swimming in debt over our head! Medically bankrupt, thanks to a scratch on the knee Now the bank is text-bombing, demanding a fee for the fee They want the pink slip to my car, they want the keys to the crib They want the marrow from my bone, they want the meat from my rib The wealth gap is a chasm that you can't even cross with a bridge You got a billionaire buying an island, I’m checking the fridge For a expired carton of milk, feeling the guilt of the build Of a system that’s designed to keep the working class killed! They drill us and pillage us, still they call us the villainous bunch While they’re eating a ten-thousand-dollar corporate lunch! (Verse 3 – LL Cool J Style) (Beat shifts again: Hard-hitting classic 80s/90s boom-bap, heavy snare, funky bass guitar) Uh, word up. Now scratch that, check the format, I am not a doormat LL back in the building, where the storm’s at? I see the hard-working people trying to make a living But Uncle Sam’s taking more than he’s giving No slouch, no couch, I’m standing on the block Watching honest families getting running by the clock Big corporate sharks trying to swallow up the block While the neighborhood is struggling to buy a single stock But we got muscle! Hustle! Hard work and grit! They can raise the interest rates but we ain’t gonna quit I love a project mother, I love a blue-collar dad Dealing with the worst cards that they ever had Hold your head high, don't you let 'em see you sweat We’ve been down before and we ain't broken yet Keep your hands on the plow, keep your eyes on the prize The middle class is rising, look 'em dead in the eyes! Yeah! (Outro) (The three beats collide and slowly fade into a simple, echoing drum loop) Three generations of the struggle. From the West, to the Midwest, to the East. They control the money... But they can't control the spirit. Middle class squeeze. Power to the people. (Fade out)
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