the power in all that condemns you You've got to heal your wounded mind secure your place in time you're of the one a son of the sun Ride upon the angels
Why don't you find a worthwhile cause To channel your energies? Like finding a solution To starvation and disease I know that you're concerned About
kids left the ghetto in They bustin' metal and ain't got remorse for the innocent It's just another nigga in the morgue My momma was pregnant with a son
we need you (we'll kill him if he fault) [Raekwon] Ayo, rappers stepping to me, they want a brick, son But I'm the Chef, my price is 26, son Move up,
giant landscape, of broken rocks Whether heard in herb spots, jukebox or malt shops Un cut live, drop eighty-five, in one shot Spotlight hits the metal
m Morpheus' son Part two to The Matrix, I'm atheist Only God is my gauges and the clip is my church Show the beginnin and the end when I'm spittin my
on Holy ground give is the greatest of all I spread my love around young black multi, this ain't a game son We run businesses this ain't a game son, we
Royale sit back laughin' while ya'll plans foyale ya'll funny style, you'll never make it to trial It ain't a game kid. [Verse 4: (Rhyme Recca)] World premier, metal
It was Sunday morning, I was seven years old In the backyard playing in a big mud hole I was all decked out ready for church And my brand new suit all
It was Sunday morning, I was seven years old In the backyard playing in a big mudhole I was all decked out, ready for church Had my brand new suit all
Used to be where I could only trust me and myself And then that heavy metal devil that could send 'em straight to Hell wit it Thought it was no helpin
matter fact, we sonnin' y'all kids) And after that we snatchin' up ya son and ya wiz (We robbin' the kids, and puttin' metal slugs in ya wigs) We stuck
without a record deal Achilles heel With the black soul And This music black gold taken to whole different level I never settled for pushing the heavy metal
, we need goodness We need joy, we need peace We need churches filled with people Who are praying on their knees To that blessed major power who gave His Son
get one chance in life To play a song that goes like... (And, as the band plays their little song, MRS. BORG (who keeps her son SY, in the closet with
no kids I scream at the mirror, curse, askin God, "Why me?" Run in the black church, gun in my hand, y'all try me I'm God-son, son of man, son of Marcus
And in the middle at the same time guzzlin' a beer Like a puzzle or a riddle, discoverin' his path to the hoop Scoop, shot, tipped up the backboard, oops Son
[K. Vanderhoof / M. Howe] Why don't you find a worthwhile cause to channel your energies? Like finding a solution to starvation and disease I know that
