Lyrics:
a day's time Hamelin will have no rats."
The stranger walked out in the street,
pulled out his flute and started playing it.
An eerie sound floated in
the cause
Put our hope in arms, leave the rest to the cause
Cause it is what it is and not what it was
Children of the revolution
I can't sit back and watch
what's to want once we're back
On Margot Street again
There's a place in our minds where the cars roll by
Like honey, slowly rolling
Cracks of dawn
they don't know what they facing
Young natural born killers and these street corner masons
You want that type of money that you see in the mob cliques
hope in arms, leave the rest to the cause
Cause it is what it is and not what it was
Children of the revolution
Okay, now that you realize Obama don't
in a dickies
Mfanakithi kwaz'bani, Jack Parcel
I was playing Mario Brothers
With my hommies, Street Fighter
Benni in the 18 area, AFCON, Burkina Faso
To the lady by the windowsill
Five healthy children
And a home of your own
Back on Miracle Row
They all will follow the show
Soap operas in
on my feet
Stop playing wit me I was raised in the East
Went from laying in streets to obeying His speech
Any day I could I preach in my way is a feast
pain
Kiss me right, where it hurt
Sadist in the street
Masochist in the bed
Smoking, Bob Marley
Spoke right to my head
Redemption, is close
Tell you no
thugging by my lonely
I ain't hanging out
You my dawg
Then hold it down when I'm not around
Need to know my people straight when I'm out of town
Street smart
a subject
In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities
In the expert's mind there are few
So by approaching a subject the way a beginner or a child
and my fellow female mammals, animals
Bitches in cages, bodies racked with hormone rages
Minds haunted by our children's faces
They mace us, with
of rain
Imaginary planes that became balloons
A little too soon
Sidewalks have no ends
But there's a pretend road
In the street
Where everyone you meet
I'm not playing
See the people begging on the streets the public can't pay them
Lots of things I see are happening truly causing me pains
See my
kinda black you must like it in the back of your britches/ Where the fuck that leave the man just wantin a better life for his childrens/
Slow down slow
Jamrock Vibes
Etana and Junior Gong
Written: Shauna “Etana” Mckenzie, Jerome Campbell, Damian “Junior Gong” Marley, cndre Morris
Junior Gong:
move forward by the aid of symbols
and we change those symbols as we move forward.
Who said that? Is there an echo in here? A catalectic tetrameter
why you switch
Cause Islam don't accepts faggots
That like ridin' dick
And how you Grape Street, fruit cup?
You wouldn't bust a grape in a food fight
John's band playing-to the tide
Come on along or go alone
He's come to take his children home
hippies are gay
They're always gettin' high
And spreading the AIDS i'd love to find
Some hippies in my yard playing their guitar
They're gettin' sprayed
So
the place of lumber
No phone number for weeks
Inadequate water and heat
In government-funded projects, surrounded by bumpy streets
In heat that seeps
Beneath
1C, In the building that taught me
Ways of rubble jungle that building was our tree
Where the roots in the street were deep, but that truth don’t ever
never check me
I rock no brand bible in my hand by the son of man
Here I come again, got my angels with me
Don't forget when you used whip me
Wings on my
Guns, shootouts and crack sales
Black males who pack jails, trapped in hell
No peace, cold streets, surrounded by po-lice
This whole week,
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