Mantra Video (MV)

Flip a buck into a million
Don't give a f*ck about glass ceilings
Raised up being told I wasn't good enough
So I grind to make a killin
Flip a buck into a million
Don't give a f*ck about your feelings
I'm going up while you're just stuck
Cause I grind to make a killin

I won't deny my privilege
But I won't lie about being impoverished
Everybody thinks white kids grow up rich
I never felt a surface granite or polished
My grandma always said I better go to college
Better get a scholarship better get your doctorate
Couldn't focus in school
I was thinking about home life and
How I'd rather die than go back to it
See everybody has their own shortfall and
Mine might not compare to yours at all
But still be thankful for the little bit that you have
In a second you can lose it all
I found one little sliver of hope
It was the only mechanism I had to cope
Thank God that music exists
Because without it I'd be tying a rope
I don't speak for anyone but myself
When I see a cop I still get scared as hell and
I've never faced a charge or been in jail
But goddamn their intentions are hard to tell and
I pray for my black brothers and sisters
I know they have it harder than I ever will
But you're all still so strong and no matter what
Black lives matter and you will prevail

Now back to the story of a little white kid
Who was never proud of his residence
He saw first hand everybody's life was different and
Most don't care about making investments
He swore to himself if ever had children
He'd never treat them how he was raised and
Now he's twenty years old and
He's questioning if he has what it takes

Work hard boy and rough up your skin
That's what his kin always said to him
If you don't sweat and bleed
What you have don't mean a thing
You earn your keep by elbow grease

Work smart boy you can run the show
That's the truth he had always known
Because he saw his whole family so work hard
Yet something worth a million they don't own

If hard work only puts fabrics on your back
That never really last that long
Then maybe I don't know here's an idea
That whole mantra is wrong

Flip a buck into a million
Don't give a f*ck about glass ceilings
Raised up being told I wasn't good enough
So I grind to make a killin
Flip a buck into a million
Don't give a f*ck about your feelings
I'm going up while you're just stuck
Cause I grind to make a killin

They want you to fail
They want you in jail
With no parole or bail
We fight each other and we kill ourselves
But the real enemies looking down
From their office in suits so expensive
That money could give us all help
They want it all for themselves
The life that we live
They never have felt
Don't fight your fellow citizens
Rage war against the corporate wealth

Work hard boy and rough up your skin
That's what his kin always said to him
If you don't sweat and bleed
What you have don't mean a thing
You earn your keep by elbow grease

Work smart boy you can run the show
That's the truth he had always known
Because he saw his whole family so work hard
Yet something worth a million they don't own

If hard work only puts fabrics on your back
That never really last that long
Then maybe I don't know here's an idea
That whole mantra is wrong

Flip a buck into a million
Don't give a f*ck about glass ceilings
Raised up being told I wasn't good enough
So I grind to make a killin
Flip a buck into a million
Don't give a f*ck about your feelings
I'm going up while you're just stuck
Cause I grind to make a killin