It takes skill to be real, time to heal each other. Although it seems heaven sent, we ain t ready to have a black president. And ain t no secret, don t conceal the fact. The penitentiary s packed, and it s filled with blacks. My stomach hurts, so I m lookin for a purse to snatch.
Cops give a damn about a negro.
Pull a trigger, kill a nigger, he s a hero. Mo nigger, mo nigger, mo niggers rather be a dead than a poor nigger. Let the lord judge the criminals, and when I die, I wonda if heaven s got a ghetto. I wonder if heaven got a ghetto. Transcription 1997 by Jim Moore for Relativity Labs.