Trade Places

Lyrics

Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo) - "Trade Places" [Emcee(s): Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] [Producer(s): Looie II] [Sample (Multiple Elements): Kool & the Gang - "Winter Sadness" (0:06 and 4:37)] [Intro: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] Yeah, yeah. You're 'bout to bare witness to a phenomenal thing. Mr. Voo, Agu, Hemlock. Check it out. Looie II. Yeah [Verse 1: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] As I make my entrance The theme to Scarface plays—is it sin or repentance? Durags or kufis? Is it smoke through the magic, Sufi Incense? Knowing I'm like a car, dual suspension, my Mental engine fueled with cruel intentions of Keying big ambition, a key in the ignition on a Highway to Heaven or Hell? Can't tell. In this endeavor Will I fail or excel? [Interlude 1: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] Yo, man, I can't call it though. Word up, man, but wife be like… [Verse 2: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] "You need to get off your ass and get some dough." I'm thinking "I need to quit your ass and get another ho." Picture me Making all these chips just to give her all my dough The pimp-and-ho relationship all that I know I'm a slave, so chains and whips all that I know. In beef I'ma squeeze flame, empty the clips—that's all that I know Getting brain, pasting her lips. Man, you know how I go Man, niggas know how I go. That's my word, yo [Hook 1: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] All my life, I dreamed of The good life, good food, warm bed Shoes and clothes Money rolls and hoes Watches, chains, bracelets, ring, folds [Verse 3: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] When we lacked Provisions, we hatched plots 'til stacks in our vision, religiously Sacrilegious, y'all catch shots and stitches if y'all Actions suspicious. Mathematicians with biscuits performing Multiplication and addition while y'all perform Subtraction and division—yours and mine clash in a collision Your faction is splitting like fractions. It's the Brooklyn Tradition [Interlude 2: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] That's right, son. The BK way. It's a tradition—you know how we do. Yo [Verse 4: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] You know, like cowboys In Westerns, we come, disperse drugs and guns, take land, turn it To slums, slugs for the ones that don't learn to succumb. Like Wendy We Got the Heat. When it spin, it burn and get numb. When we gotta Eat, fiends hit the kitchen, return with drugs. Plot ourselves On the street, get to pitching 'til we earn some sums, squeezing Junkies with rotten teeth—this dish be churning in their gums. Treat hoes Like flunkies: get 'em extensions, perms, stick 'em, and run [Interlude 3: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] Yeah, you know how we do: find 'em, fuck 'em, and flee, you know? [Verse 5: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] I'm your worst dream, the scariest black face you've seen Since Willie Horton's face graced the screen. Y'all got Nice homes? We got buildings like caverns, crime patterns New York fried chicken spots, and y'all got restaurants and taverns Y'all got nice jobs, mom and dad gets you what you want. My mom slaved For all she had, we couldn't get what we want. Y'all got First-rate health insurance and medical aid All I got is first aid and Medicaid. Y'all taking drugs For fun and recreation. We got so much pain in the brain We're self-medicating, using drugs for sedation. Y'all teachers Care about y'all. Our teachers fail us, they consider Us failures, they just promote us to get rid of us. Cops Is y'all friends, y'all donate to the policemen funds. Cops Is our enemies, we loathe and hate policemen with guns 'cause all They do is evade and chase us, blast us, and raid and Invade our spaces—y'all don't want to trade places [Hook 2: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] If I could Trade places, I'd trade the streets for a stage I'd take freedom instead of a holding cage. If I could Trade places, I'd take youth over age 'cause the Older I get, the harder it is to hold this rage. Wish I Could trade faces like Travolta and Cage, trade A semi for a Colt .45 and 12 Gauge, a gun For a blade, rhyme instead of crime as a way to get paid My life for yours, is that a fair enough trade? [Verse 6: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] Do they see the shells when the gun spit and spark? Do they see Our hell on 106 & Park and TRL? I try to bring 'em pain But the pain we bring became an entertainment thing 'Cause all they see is hoes, clothes, cars, chains, and rings. Y'all don't Know the evil and strange things we've seen and did to maintain blings Are willing to do what we do to reign kings. Until The burner stings, you lose your turn as king, but earn your wings. It come To snitching? I'm tone-deaf, I never learned to sing All the crimes we're susceptible to y'all find acceptable Y'all dine and eat this shit up like it's delectable Y'all having intellectual discussions and discourse We say shit with burners if a crab diss yours Preachers steady telling us we're cursed, misinterpreting Bible verse while he reaches for your purse. Why in The hood, next to every liquor store, there's a church? This shit is the worst [Hook 2: Agu (AKA Mr. Voodoo)] If I could Trade places, I'd trade the streets for a stage I'd take freedom instead of a holding cage. If I could Trade places, I'd take youth over age 'cause the Older I get, the harder it is to hold this rage. Wish I Could trade faces like Travolta and Cage, trade A semi for a Colt .45 and 12 Gauge, a gun For a blade, rhyme instead of crime as a way to get paid My life for yours, is that a fair enough trade?