Оригинален текст
Artist: Talib Kweli, Dead Prez and David Banner
Album: Sucka Free Mix
Song: Ridin'
Typed by: danteharding@yahoo.com
David Banner:
I'm from a place
Where You gotta let yo' nutz hang
Where them crakas used to cut your stomach open
Just to let your fkin' guts hang
Right there in front of the kids
I might as well split your Whig
'Cause that's just what the master did
But now I'm the new Nat Turner
Spreadin' something to the kids
Like Sojourner, Man, the truth
fk a 'Creek
? I care but you in doubts ?
And go "Woof"
He ain't dead
What pledge
There's a stank up in the Busch
Or a stank up in the White House
Shootin' board bulls**t
Man, it's dead props
Here in Chicago
But hit this hi-lo
Warriors come play
Click the bottles
c*ck them AK's (YEAH!)
Bust on KK's (YEAH!)
With the Knuckle boy
Or the Other Two
And the Stic-Man
Given Dead on your shirt
Like a Wristband
You a Grown Man
nigg*, Stand tall
Don't it hurt
'Cause you really
Ain't a nigg*, dog?
Don't it hurt
'Cause you really
Ain't a nigg*, dog?
(YEAH!)
Don't it hurt
'Cause you really
Ain't a nigg*, dog?
Chorus
Country boys, city boys
Cadalacs, Rolly Royce
Whatever...long as we Ridin'
Pretty girls, ghetto boos
On the boulevard, in the avenue
It's a long a walk
Now that we Ridin'
Dead Prez:
Yo'
is not orginal
follow the radio
think if You Blow
Then You gotta be on the TV Show
Crackas is hypocritical
Crackas will rob and s**t on You
'Cause see You do what they do
They know freedom is powerful
is very visual
If we see it, we think it's true
Very few make a move
And even less'll see it through
Crackas make up the chemicals
Then they call us the criminals
Crackas make all the loot
And we just get the residuals
will rob and shot on You
Crackas will drop a bomb on You
is having funerals
Crackas is having barbeques
sing the blues
That's reminicin' the spritual
But when You say GAWD is You
ain't really hearing You
Crackas like to capitalize
Them crackas a lie
They say if You don't ?unionnize?
Then You'll probably die
I hate callin'
So I'ma take it backwards
I ain't got now love for whithey
I love callin'em crackas (CRACKAS!)
Chorus
Country boys, city boys
Cadalacs, Rolly Royce
Whatever...long as we Ridin'
Pretty girls, ghetto boos
On the boulevard, in the avenue
It's a long a walk
Now that we Ridin'
Talib Kweli:
Yeah!
I call myself real
N-I-G-G-A
'Cause Kweli be
Showin' on the floor
And they policies
My philosophies
Show You that the block
Is a part of me
Freedom Fighter
Like Richard Carter be
It's deep how the street knowledge beef
'Cause it ran like a code inside of me
It's practical, not scholarly
Now why do I call myself
A nigg*
You ask me
Who's got my back
When the cops harass me
Ya'll can label
Cinncinatti
Can ride the train
Or with the Caddie
When they call You
nigg* they scared of You
They fearin' You
So actually
If CRACK is gone
Be fearing
Then that's what the
fk I have to be
Now
It's a badge of honor
And some say that
s**t's upsurd
It's more than
Just a word
We flip the s**t
Like it's a 'bird
Pass it down through
Generations, then
Cuss You out and say it loud
The first generation
Of muth*fkas
To grab Our Nuts and
Say it proud
Country or City
Tupac or Biggie
In the coridor, floor or door,
And all my Mississippi
We connected
All throughout
The North, the East, the West, the South
And if a white boy say the s**t
He'll still get punched
Right in the mouth
Chorus
Country boys, city boys
Cadalacs, Rolly Royce
Whatever...long as we Ridin'
Pretty girls, ghetto boos
On the boulevard, in the avenue
It's a long a walk
Now that we Ridin'
Ending 2x
All they got for You
Is a Cell my nigg*
They want You
Dead or in jail
Without Rebel my nigg*
In the streets
It's similar to Hell
My nigg*
But we gonna Boss up
And live well
My nigg*