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Looking on various street corners |
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I'm sure you've seen it yourself |
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Standing on the corner, is an alleged brother |
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Dressed in blue or green, red and black |
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And, spouting the news, that the revolution is coming |
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And you better get ready, sort of like |
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The end of the world is coming, unfortunately |
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The world is just gonna get dragged on and on |
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And, we have a poem that we've written particularly |
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For the brothers on the street corners |
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Yo, standing on porches in front of houses and corner stores |
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I'm born to more, horrific than syphilis, cuz where we live is |
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Hell on earth, where was heaven when shit's real |
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We sold dope to get mill, for white folks in Smith field |
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Fuck Israel, it's Kill Hills, spilt pills for my bill |
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Write wills for my seeds, to live from, who take some |
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Who give some, for brothers that was lynched hung, the symptoms |
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Never go away, a stir away from colder ways |
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Having ramblings and savages, blessed, from us asking |
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This whole cross, is more rust in Florida oranges and lost orphans |
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I offer thought for food in full courses |
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I've soared into the night glow, my hat's low, my roots grow |
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For you to soon know, I reap what you sow |
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We just land down from Liberia, young black man |
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In control of the pillars, millions buried in dirt |
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How many railroads do you own? How much clean chrome you own |
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This for my ancestors names engraved in stone |
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On the roads where the rebels once roamed |
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We built homes, civilized our own |
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King Solomon Childs, beautiful as black, this time |
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We will walk on water, this time |
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We will see through the lies, this time |
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Prepare troops to move in, expand the runways |
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Build bigger bridges, nine millimeters from brady |
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We living in war, so prepare for submission |
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Apache helicopters, a black man's face on a dollar |
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The pigs constantly watch us, the streets is obnoxious |
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Baby of the first nine, homey, in toxic |
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The first seed of a dope fiend, she A.D.D |
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Needle parked off spring boughed, by she, wanna be |
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While her siblings is rich living, she ain't bitching |
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Mama's working two jobs, try'nna maintain a living |
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Few years passed, now she's getting raised by the streets |
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Side by side, watchin' hustles, now she blazed like the streets |
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This is for my women living in the struggle |
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Getting brought into this world without asking for the troubles |
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Of the every day life-life, a battered wife |
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A single mother's holding it down, while the world so trife |
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Crack fiend, you could of been something better in life |
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Now hold your head up, ma, you know it ain't over, right? |
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Yeah, this is for my Russians on the grind |
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Off the boat struggling try'nna hold a nine to five |
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Yeah, I seen enough with these eyes |
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I thank the most high, I'm still alive |