for real, yeah shoot to kill with no aim. Head for the hills yes eyes on the camp fire glow. Creep up there like a white mink hiding n snow. And outta black
for real, yeah shoot to kill with no aim. Head for the hills, yes eyes on the camp fire glow. Creep up there like a white mink hiding in snow. And outta black
About dignity I went down where the vultures feed I would've got deeper, but there wasn't any need Heard the tongues of angels and the tongues of men
s about Mathematics, bitches with a brolic ass Automatics that cause havoc, for fast cash Pedal bark, Allah trademark in the heart A young Mozart, swim
missile We watched Bud© commercials We saw the yellow ribbons Saw pilots in prison We never saw films of the dead... at eleven Angela Davis addressed
we must, in beds of rust Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams & muzak, AM, rocks their dreams No black men's pride to hoist the beams while mocking angels
(feat. Inspector Deck, D'Angelo) [Intro: D'Angelo] Babies dyin, moms cryin, and punks gettin off Shit is deep on the block and you got me locked down
sign of may day When they looked and seen my X-Ray, they started to pray My street team was seen in a dead man's dream Go 'head, get ya green, til my
concern, was making a million being the illest hustler, that the world ever seen he used to fuck moviestars and sniff coke in his dreams a corrupted young
love me again Let's take a trip down.. I gotcha Let's take a trip down memory, lane at the cemetary Rain grey skies, seems at the end of every young black
cracked Black diamonds came hard won Generations toiled and hacked For a pittance and black lung Crushed by tub or stone Together And alone How the young
I bodied men and raised it kids, now they grown and it's on If I'm this kinda nigga when I'm livin', imagine the kinda angel I'd be And all the foul niggaz
build the tower of babylon But you savages stake me, when I start erasin homosapiens You lookin for an angel with wings I'm 'a bring young niggas with
dying young but the evil's dead too And what's to blame, we're all guilty of sin But then again, there are a few good men In the projects on the Hill
with the reek of the compost, as the livig try hard to retain what the dead lost, with double dead sickness from writing at what cost and business and