Lyrics:
the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith
yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.
Work like a soul inspired,
Till the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But
for a new world,
A decent world that will give men a chance to work,
That will give youth a future and old age a security.
By the promise of these
"Get on the bus", go get your work
And keep your beeper chirpin' is a must
Is you on that dust or cornstarch?
Familiar with that smack man?
The music
David Foster lives in Gloucester with his family
Works 'til pay-time, through the day-time, then comes home for tea
Steak and kidney, then with
The System Works for Them aus-Rotten
These men - bought by prejudice
Their laws - not made for justice
Their live - I want no part of this
Your death - dig
your cards right
There's some men here tonight worth your while," thinking
[Chorus]
Work that you love is hard to come by
The kids she could
The rich they do continually
Run down the poor men’s labour still
If he’ll not work so straight they cry
Begin, we know another will
And thus
to ever possess minds of man, purest noxious water to wipe out hordes and tribes.
Ugliest work of art and violence ever seen by motal men.
Prepare for
And monsters rose among them
Nailed to the land
To take of the mountains
While others were carved away
And left to rot by monstrous men
It was my land first
Standing on the corner with my paper cup
Nickels, dimes and quarters never near enough
The busy people walk on by never look me in the eye
I become
them pew thighs
Supersized by fries, I pimp a lot of bitches
but I'd rather save yo' lives
I'm from a place where they hung black folks
Where a bird can
to come
A Gretel sick of merely sucking Her thumb
Than gingerbread men
Spawned scorned, abhorred by the aerial
She was the light of the world going down
Noble works of art, made by man
To glorify gods.
Invaluable intellectuality that does not
Correspond to whom they were, intended.
Hey holy men! How
named Vivian
Brown-skinned cinnamon, playin' and pimpin' men
Swimmin' in Benjamins
Body like a Buick bumpin', jumpin' and jigglin'
Butt look like big lips
this fine young tender named Vivian
Brown-skinned cinnamon, playin' and pimpin' men
Swimmin' in Benjamins
Body like a Buick bumpin', jumpin'
a salt shaker)
Popping 'til you percolate
First booty-on-booty, no time to wait
Make it work, with your wet t-shirt
Bitch you gotta shake it 'til
the sword, is there any other way?
Your false hero will never die by the blade.
(Chorus)
Some say to play is more noble than work.
A path paved, but bent
believe you brought me here
To mold me
I believe you brought me here
To shape me
I believe you brought me here
To use me
Work on me oh Lord
Make a story
foreign cars, many women
And some say that it was the life I was given
I say it don't matter if I work at Mickey D's
I still got a fix for what you got
rubbed dry by experience
There is a quality about
Women who have chosen men sparingly
It appears in their walk in their eyes
In their laughter and in
you came in"
I never dreamed you'd be sittin' there
I heard a lot about you from the men that you work for
They tell me that you're fair and square"
know what I saw. A UFO flew by last night"
You ever heard someone talking so much shite?
I said "I don't work, don't work all day just to listen to you
Tell mi when
Niggas will stop sending other niggas to the pen
Bitches will stop hating other bitches for their men
People player hating other
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