Track 2: "Cash Crop" (Style: A heavy, hypnotic Biggie flow over a jazzy piano sample and a thick bassline. The tempo is laid-back, but the lyrics hit hard). [Intro – Smooth, money counter sounds in the background, low voice] Yeah… check the ledger, baby. Green fields, green paper… it’s all the same to them. They don’t want you to grow… they want you to yield. Listen… [Verse 1] They put the toddlers in rows, tell 'em how to sit straight Standardized testing, pre-programming your fate Cut away your branches if they grow too wild We need a uniform product, not a creative child Put 'em in the greenhouse, crank the heat up high Teach 'em how to climb the ladder, never mind the sky You graduate the soil, get your fancy degree Now you’re a premium stalk in the corporate factory Clock in at nine, let 'em trim your leaves neat Just another row of corn on a corporate street They give you just enough water so you don't drop dead While they squeeze the sweet juice right out of your head. [Chorus – Classic Biggie sing-song, catchy but cynical] Cash crop! (Cash crop!) Growing for the man Stacked in the supermarket, part of the plan They don't care about your roots, just the price on the shelf You spent your whole damn life just farming yourself Yeah… buy low, sell high… Watch the cash crop grow till the day that you die. [Verse 2] They got you working for the green just to buy their pesticide To cure the anxiety they planted deep inside You think you’re moving up, got a title so grand But a potted plant still can’t touch the real land They genetically modified your hopes and your dreams Turned your passion into tax brackets, schemes, and routines Left side, right side, both punch the same clock Both paying mortgages to the owners of the block You think you’re making bread, but you’re just the wheat Baked and sliced up for the elite to eat Big Poppa saw the trap from the very first day They don't want your soul, man, they want the pay-day. [Bridge – Melancholic piano solo, flow gets slower] Water the soil with your sweat and your tears… They harvest your twenties, your thirties, your years… And when you’re dried out and the color turns grey… They pull you by the root and throw you away. [Chorus] Cash crop! (Cash crop!) Growing for the man Stacked in the supermarket, part of the plan They don't care about your roots, just the price on the shelf You spent your whole damn life just farming yourself. [Outro – Sound of a cash register dinging, fading out] Yeah… out of the dirt, into the box. Barcoded. That’s track two. Keep growing, baby… if they let you.
