Lyrics:
[Fred] Chopper City let 'em know!
[Chopper]
I believe in gettin rich or die tryin
Niggaz is (?) and I'm a warrior like ninja stroll
It ain't nothin,
[Chorus]
They say we N I - Double G E R
We - are - much more,
Still we choose to ignore,
The obvious.
Man this history don't acknowledge us,
We
and dad but can't hear you
Coz you just whisper
Hold you hostage
Make you dance
Till you feel like Chris Brown
You know I'm a freak
Step by step I take I
brother
Keep that pistol by me like my lovely momma
Hot as the summer, cold as the winter
Stay on them charts, I heard that they plotting my timber
every human
Look how Biggie went out, and Tupac went out
And Martin, and Malcolm, and Kennedy, and Squeek
And Adam, and Rene, and so on, and so on...
your lips
As you stare at the eclipse
Of what could have been...
But a silence shared with you
Says more than a speech by a Queen
And your eyes whisper
Babylon
Fuck this world, that's why we carry on
By the Email Fidel, tell him meet me on the D.L.
No longer a free world, think of shank or Verra'
This
Imagine full glock clips
I hold a glass of Remy Martin
Gettin' milks by the carton
Extortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important
The night pays
take a bite
We drip too hard too fly like kites
Stick go boom blacka blacka blacka
I get rockstar that's my shotta shotta
Bout a dolla dolla
Stop by
the world head on, never chose to run
See me prior to attack like a cobra tongue
I wish that I was more prepared when the moment comes
Opted not to swallow
still smell like pine needles. I like you and you like me and I more-than-like you, but I don't know if you do or don't more-than-like me. You've never
Cataract action calling that ligase
Something like Banshee screaming out my name
Lydia Martin playing them mind games
Something like Banshee screaming out my
I kick it like God give it dont hate on this talent its God given see this passion for christ couldn't be written by mel gibson i dream like like
the projects, 4 for the love
y'all gimme my rifle, we moving by bus
And if ya moving too fast they'll get ya caught up like
Ooh, them ghetto classics (ghetto),
wearing
What they wearing
So what you gonna do
They wearing dickies and house shoes
I'm dickied down with my house shoes by everyday
So if you don't like
like a blue whale
Mixed with lean and koolaid
So dirty yeah it need a maid
Going downwards day by day
Hella pain I have face-to-face
Still up and working
Gotta feel like I'm finding me again
I wonder why time flies by
No whisper as to why my mind
Craves a meaning
Gotta start believing
Sunshine, sunshine, in
to the stomach
Yea we bigger than you
A trigger or two
Will let off an disfigure a few
A missile or cruise
Tissue quiet a whisper that flew by
Official wit goons
on earth
Be loved by God as much as God loved Gandhi and Martin Luther King
Be that last one of 144,000, be the resident of that twelfth house
Be, eternal
Martin you're my Gina
Baby you know that I need ya, yeah yeah
I'm so excited to be yours
Holdin' you close, holdin' you tight,
Cause I know by the end
Bobby Martin (keyboards, vocals)
Ed Mann (vibes, marimba, electronic percussion)
Walt Fowler (trumpet, flugel horn, synthesizer)
Bruce Fowler (trombone)
of the town
The incidents may vary
Jack and Mary Benny (24)
Nick and Sister Kenny (25)
Made the scene for me, too
Like little Lottie Lenya (26)
Helped
Maybe I’m wildin
Maybe I’m way more Newton than Daaga
Martin’s ashamed but Malcom is prouder
This is America
Maybe I’m Childish
I’m full of anger, I’m
They say I'm crazy, and I don't give a fuck
Goose in the cup, 40 by the nuts
Crazy (lay a nigga down like what)
'Cause they don't know nothin
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