( Am  F  Dm  C  G/B )
The only cribs that we should care for

Are the ones that we are here for

The ones belonging to our children

That do that we do, scar from our wounds

The only cribs that make a difference

Where the magic really happens

Don't come with a Mercedes Benz

Or a wide screen showing nothing
Am  Am/G  Am/F  E
Showing nothing...
( Am  F  Dm  C  G/B )
I'm sick of home control devices

Sick of sickening home designers

Sick of drugs and gold and strip poles

Sick of homies, sick of poses

Despite the nodding staff that serves you

Despite your name on clothes and perfume

Despite the way the press observes you

You're just people

You're just people


( Am  Am/G  Am/F  E )
You're just people...(3x)

Successful people

Dressed up people

Smiling people

Famous people

Red carpet people

Wealthy people

Important people

But still just people
( Am  Am/G#  Am/G  Am/F# )

( Am  F  Dm  C  G/B )
So fuck the million dollar kitchen

Fuck the Al Pacino posters

Fuck the drugs, the gold, the strip poles

Fuck the homies, fuck the poses

Fuck the walls they build around them

Fuck the bedroom magic nonsense

I don't want to hear their voices

As long as they vote with their wallets

Fuck the silly "throw you out" joke

Fuck the framed cigar DeNiro smoked

Fuck their lack of originality and personality

Fuck this travesty

Fuck this new norm

Fuck conformity

Fuck their Kristal

Fuck their sordity

Fuck the way they fuck equality

Fuck their freebie gear

Fuck the ones they wear


( Am  Am/G  Am/F  E )
You're just people...(6x)

Successful people

Dressed up people

Smiling people

Famous people

Red carpet people

Wealthy people

Important people

But still just people


( Dm  Am  G  C  G/B )
Messed up people

Shallow people

Stupid people

Plastic people

Meta people

Theta people

Therapyople

Entropiople


( Am  Am/G#  Am/G  Am/F# )
Oh, fuck the ones they wear

I'm cribcaged

Cribcaged
( Am  F  Dm  C  G/B )
The only cribs that we should care for

Are the ones that we are here for

The ones belonging to our children

That do what we do, scar from our wounds