Welcome
War/Peace, cmon Nappy
Love/Lust, now say it, Roots
I got a telegram from a pelican
Said in the clouds last night she got higher then shes ever been
Seen shuttles and huddles, hard rocks and war bombs
In real life our words in distorted sound
Coke and Hen mix, guitar Jimi Hendrix
Smokes and blunts but this is my experience
The worlds corrupt, how can I defend it?
Need more love, thats why I have to send it
Know what it is when you really tryin to be somethin
But in your minds you really cant find nothin
But am I wrong if a preacher cant reach me?
Or am I dumb cause a teacher cant teach me?
Im too black for this world here to bleach me
Im too much hell for this heaven here to keep me
But you can beat me, slander me, cancel me
But see Im real so you still gotta answer me
The thought of all destruction, man aint nothin gonna last
I feel the pain and sufferin, the system done collapsed
Wood is burnin, big constructions burnin, holdin on a pass
Shattered glass the aftermath, tragic death is on the trail
Empty shells, the ghettos extinct, theres heaven and theres hell
Burnin souls, the opposite of peace for 7 million years
Started livin well, self-esteem, been lovin with myself
Its time for revolution, get yo gauge and bullets off the shelf
Because its war
Because the end is almost here but I done been here before
So I havent any fear for I trust in the Lord
When I die nobody cry, nobody shed not a tear
In the middle of the floor pour out your liquor and your beer
Im still witcha, you can hear me loud and clearly
When Im howlin at the moon (whoooooo)
Mama heard me freestylin in the womb
Heard me battlin the beat of her heart when it boom
Im born again, Im free! Im Nappy to my Roots!
Do it, cmon, cmon, yeah!
Do it, cmon, cmon, yeah!
Do it, cmon, cmon, yeah!
Do it, do it, do it, do it!
Rich man purchased a poor one
This land versus a fore run
Either you with us or for em
Pistols and missiles got em just to wage war on
It aint safe even in Oregon
Each mourn, then theres more gone
Bloodshed filthy as the money it pours on
The guilty hand washes the sore one
King James boxin a Quran
The officials are morons, cant trust no one
But if the whinos dont know it, the streets wont repeat it
If it aint adverse, then the reverend wont preach it
Represent the slums, the misfits and have-nots
Buddy we had not, born in a bad spot
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