Saturday, November 1, 2008

Baraack! What up wit that 40 acres and a mule?...

But i'd settle for a 40 ounce and a pit bull, make that happen for us.

Political thugs in shark suits persuade us to pull triggers

in army boots, yellin "Join the armed forces!"

We lost the Vietnam War, intoxicated poisons

Needles in arms of veterans instead of bigger fortunes

There's still a lot of nigger calling in the corporate offices

War in the ghetto, we crabs in a barrel, they torture us

They won't be servin the beast too long

The murderers wearin police uniforms, confederate flags I burn

Beat Street breakers were dancin to the music I chose

And Peachtree Atlantic crackheads was tootin they nose

in frozen corners of Chicago, loaded up Llama's children

with fo'-fo's, and double-revolvers

We devil incarnates, headed for jail

Where Shell gas company in South Africa be havin us killed

Your paper money was the death of Christ

And all these shorties comin up just resurrect your life

It's like a cycle