Artist: James Crawford
Song: Food Stamps
Album: Fugyous Vol One
Year: 2007

Yeah, it's kinda revelating when your expressions match your feelings and reflections

Rationale...

I look at myself in the mirror and all that I can see/
Is the torment and turmoil from all that lies beneath/
I've cried for weeks, it hurts even when I try to speak/
But I manage to rise above it all after my defeat/
Cause positive focus says to me when I'm knocked down/
"Get up you son of a bitch!  No way you can stop now!"/
And keeps me climbing like a rock hound, elevating/
I pride myself in triumphs, so I'm hardly celebrating/
Cause to me it's personal, it's more than seeing success/
It's more than winning fans over, it's more than being the best/
It's more than rolling phat and living swell, but who am I trying to kid/
Cause what good are words of wisdom if you're just dying to live?/
So to hell with nickel and diming, gimme the figures and diamonds/
Shit, I'll sell my soul to be shining from spitting and rhyming/
And the bottom line is show me the dotted line/
Cause B.O.A. never took food stamps, and why should they start with mine?/

(Chorus)
If you live for the buck sometimes you feel like giving up/
And wonder exactly why you should give a fuck/
Plus, it's a cold world and there's no one to turn to/
Nobody knows a thing about what your going through/
I live for the buck, sometimes I feel like giving up/
And wonder exactly why I should give a fuck/
But it is as such that I'm the type to stand proud/
Was taught to accept a hand up, and not a hand out

But who am I trying to impress?  I really don't need to hustle/
I can live off tuna fish and Kix, chill, and just be humble/
Yeah, I'm struggling but it keeps me seething and squeezed/
Poised for the day I blow up and start receiving the cheese/
And that's a reason to be scheming with what seems evil to me/
Feeding poison to people if it means I'm seeing the green/
But believe you me, I'd much have fun and run with it/
Make the most of what I have and see what comes of it/
Freestyling at the Hip Hop shop, after hour spot/
And hole in the wall clubs keep me from going pop/
And whether I know or not, it's both a blessing and curse/
From my obsession with possessions is a lesson to be learned/
And if you discover it, brother, then let me know/
But I can't be a sucker for now, I'm burning to get that dough/
Fervidly, hurriedly, selling out or burglary/
Cause what can't be bought, who gives two shits?  It's absurd to me!

(Chorus)