1. |
||||
Late last night
I was taking a bath
when all ov’ah sudden
all the lights in’da house go out
I had to ask myself, “Did you pay your bills on time?”
Hell Yeah! so what in’da fuck, could it be this time?
For three nights in a row, a blackopolix,
and not by choice. “Unh, Unh, I said to myself,
‘I ain’t no John-Boy, and we ain’t da Waltons”
So yo Edison, Yo Commonwealth Edison, Turn’Da Fuckin’
Lights back on …HELL YEAH!
Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on
Turn’da mo’fuckin’ lights back on
HELL YEAH!
Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on
Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on
HELL YEAH
I lit a candle,
so I could put my clothes back on,
then I walked down to what ustah’ be
the grocery store. I blinked my eyes
cuz I couldn’t believe what I was seeing
crazy-ass cops, these crazy ass cops
knockin’ my peoples, up on the headz
acting and thinking, thinking and acting,
like this was still, 1968, 1968,1968
Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on
Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on
HELL YEAH!
Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on
Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on
HELL YEAH
Somebody tell me honestly,
do you think po ’people dig living like this?
No compensation, and never, never, never
an explanation. So crooked politicians beware, crooked politicians beware,
we don’t need no bullets, cuz we got the ballot
So Yo Edison, Yo, Commonwealth Edison,
Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on
Turn’da moi’fuckin’ lights back on
HELL YEAH!
Turn’da mo’fuckin lights back on
Turn’da mo’fuckin’ lights back on
HELL YEAH!
|
||||
2. |
All Pro
07:22
|
|||
And you don’t talk Black to justice.
Just be all you can be, our chosen superhero.
But don’t be fucking with justice.
Justice could put you away for life,
Make a made-for-TV movie out of you.
A Black superhero ain’t nothing but a zero. A Black superhero ain’t nothing but a zero.
All Pro,
All Pro
All for one, and all and all and all and all and all
All, all, all
All, all, all
Mama, what’s a Black Superhero,
I mean, can he fly, can he cry, can he die
like Darnell’s old man did in last week’s drive-by?
If you think it’s betta,
You wrong … it ain’t nobody
but the LAPD. And those mo’fucks
fear anything with the word “BLACK” in it
Fear of a Black teenager standing on a street corner looking funky
Fear of a black poet, reading Whitman
Fear of an all-black TV drama
Fear of a Black-owned Bookstore
Fear of an all-Black National Hockey League
Fear of a Black Talk Show Host
Fear, fear of a Black politician
Fear of a black rape victim that can identify her white rapist
All Pro,
All Pro
All for one, and all and all and all and all and all
All, all, all,
All, all, all, all.
In last week’s dramedy
We watched our hero
drive to the end of the rainbow
where he was greeted by drunken fans
waving cans of Minute Maid
and the American Flag…
Mama, why do we always
put another human being
on a pedestal thinkin’ they can do no wrong,
and when they do, we treat them
like a Superhero, a Superhero
who can no longer outrun all his greedy friends,
and foes. A Superhero, who can no longer
see through all the media bullshit hype
All Pro,
All Pro
All for one, and all and all and all and all and all
All, all, all,
All, all, all, all.
Mama, why did they let’em live like a white man
And watch him die, like a Black Superhero?
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
Superman
He’s a Superman…
|
||||
3. |
||||
Charlie, Charlieeeeeeeee
Charlie said, I love my good and plenty…
Charlie said, that shit really rings my bell man!
Charlie said, I like it, I like it a lot.
I must’ve seen him do that same
bad-ass nigga routine, a thousand and one times
first, he’d crisscross his eyes all silly,
contort his face and make a menacing growl.
Then he threatened to pull down his pants
and take a mean-stankin’ ass shit
If the crowd didn’t applaud loud enough,
or shout, CHARLIE, CHARLIE, CharrrrrrrrLEEE
Charlie said:
I love my good and plenty
Charlie said, that shit really rings my bell man
Charlie said, I like it, I like it a lot.
Only then would he grab his old beat-up kango,
sorting out the coins from’da dollah bills,
suspiciously looking over his back for beggers
or even worst, crack deal’lahs that grew
like exotic plants on every street corner
Yo Charlie, Charlie, Charlie …..
Word was, that Charlie, was kickin’ it man
had hooked-up with the good folks
down at the N/A Center,
met this little grey-haired lady,
she stood about 5ft4, Charlie, stood about 6’5.
She said, “Son if you tried hard enough,
you could learn to dream again…”.
No more late-night rendezvous
with that two-faced white bitch
down at run-down rat-infested hotels
like the Saint James. With her always leaving Charlie,
spastically pacing in circles up under the arch
Charlie be up under the arch up under the ar
on all fours’ya, barking like he was mad dawg
(Barking)
Charlie said:
I love my good and plenty
Charlie said, that shit really rings my bell man
Charlie said, I like it, I like it a lot.
Word was, word was,
that Charlie was kickin’ it man,
he was kickin’ it man, and that whoever
had stolen his skinny skeleton
from his old beat-up body, could keep it!
Cuz the boy didn’t need it no mo.
He didn’t need it no mo. Told me
he was learning to dream again
CHAAAAAAAAAARLEEEEEE
CHAAAAAAAAAARLEEEEEE
Charlie said……
|
||||
4. |
||||
Makes you wanna holla,
throw-up both’ya hands
but your mind wanders
off the page into an audience
divided into three groups
One, mousey-face art students
who still believe that jack Keroac-off is still alive,
and will be showing up to read from some “real’ urban tales
Two, a table full of beautiful lesbians from Montana
with so much clothing on that you start to think about
that homeless family living underneath, lower Wacker Drive
Three, thrill seeking North-Shore type,s
who’ve mistaken the joint for an after-the hours
Bears hangout, guzzling down cold beers
In turtle-neck sweaters.
Psssssssssssss, it’s your subconscious fucking wi’cha,
Psssssssssssss , “WHY IN”DA HELL ARE YOU HERE FOR?”
That’s when you jump into your Last Poets groove,
thinking, “This shit went over well with the brothers from Omega
last week, “Kill whitey, whitey did it!
Went to’da moon and fucked an alien.
Whitey, Whitey, Whitey….
Psssssssssssss, Psssssssssssss it’s your subconscious again
It’s getting the best of you, but you can’t control it to save
Your life…”Dats it, keep’em scared my brother, they like it
Like dat, real harrrd and funky. Make’em shit Jimmy Crow
make’em scream, ‘Take that shit back to the ghetto
We can’t take it anymore…’
Pssssssssssss, I think you got their attention,
the sister drinking with the loud-mouth Asian guy
didn’t get it. The art we arty than hell types
ain’t gonna get it because it’s a gender thang man
and racial paranoia, is just a civil-lite thang of the past.
And when you finally open your eyes, the entire audience
has turned into a long line of bungalows, circa Bridgeport 1993.
And you, you have your doubts too and they start to show,
“Asalama Laka, anybody checkout those L.A. Lakers? Hey
my brother can you pour me some more of that Folgers?
Pssssssssssss, they’re clapping
As if a conductor is pointing at them. And yes,
a few are even scared. Psssssssssss, my brother,
do you think white-folks, spend as much time
thinking about white folks or do black folks
Spend as much time, thinking about white folks?
Psssssssssssss, my brother, did you know
That FUNK, use to be a bad word?
|
||||
5. |
Who Sold Soul?
03:57
|
|||
Who Sold Soul?
Who sold soul?
Who sold soul?
trivialized, and romanticized
until all of its traces are turned
upside down and forgotten.
Unless you were there, unless
you, were there...
Can blackness be sold?
Who sold the afro pick?
Who sold the lo, high-five?
Who sold, big funky booties
and succulent Chaka Kahn Lips,
WHO SOLD SOUL?
Was it you, Kevin Klein,
when you finally realized
that sistas could ride horses,
into fake orange sunsets
dip their heads into sky-blue waters
and rise up, looking remote and sexy at the same time?
or was it you, Godfather of soul, funk, hip-house,
believing in all that governmental slapstick, only
to be imprisoned by southern rednecks, labeled
and ridiculed as if you were, just another entertainer?
WHO SOLD SOUL?
WHO SOLD SOUL?
Question!
what is a 'black-thang'
and will it outlast black history month?
Question!
Is there such a thang, as a superior race
and if so, who won the race?
Question!
Was Madonna really Elvis in drag?
And if so, who really gives a fuck,
because you know, you know,
they have no real soul,
WHO SOLD SOUL?
WHO SOLD SOUL?
You better wake up
wake up, wake up.....
|
||||
6. |
Color Blind Society
04:49
|
|||
You wan’nah make believe
that you’re living in a colorblind society
but the world that you crawl in
all roses are red to you.
Cuz every time you see me
walking down the street
You clutch yo’purse,
look the other way
and pray to God that am not the stranger,
who’ll steal yo’dreams
you living in a colorblind society
Yeah, yeah, we living in a colorblind society
Two mo’years left before the year 2000
and we still can’t see eye to eye,
on’da race issue. I saw you sitting down
at The OJ Trial, you were screaming sexism
and I was screaming racism but when the verdict
was announced, I looked at you, and you looked at me
and we both lost fate, in the law and order
in all of mankind.
We living in a colorblind society
Yeah, we living in a colorblind society
everything gonna be alright
You keep trying to deny my existence
and he keep on trying to deny her existence
treating each other like invisible men,
but like the funk in my durty drawls,
You can’t keep being oblivious to this beat, NAW!
I know a place where all the brothers go
They call it state prison.
I know a place where all the brothers go
They call it, State prison
Greg was a po’kid, who hated being po
tried hangin’ wi’all dah rich kids,
but they didn’t dig’em
cuz he was too dam po.
now he’s selling rocks,
he’s living in a colorblind society
Yeah, he’s living in a colorblind society
…red is’da color of my true love’s hair….
|
||||
7. |
Mr. Junkie Maker
06:16
|
|||
Junkie Maker
Give me back my mother
Junkie Maker give me back,
my brother….
Junk Maker
Junk Maker
Junk Maker
Your factory is full today
of mother’s, brother, fathers
and sisters. They await your car-washed Mercedes
to park along the curbside, as if a missing puzzle.
One by one, clutching in their hands,
social security checks, welfare checks
Stolen money, hard-earned cash
Junkie Maker give me back my mother
Junkie Maker give me back, give me back
My brother
I remember back in’da day
You ustah wait til the sun, went down
before you pulled out your bag of tricks
You said that you said that ‘Children
weren’t game’. Now’yo motto is, time is money,
money equals time, those caught between the crossfire
gotta deal with the crime
You a trip man
You’ah mo’fuckin’ trip
Junkie Maker , give me back my mother
Junkie maker give me back, give me back
My brother
as long as it’s not there mouths
who got the glass dick stuck in’der mouths
Ov’ah der is ole Man Mr. Johnson,
he remembers when crack’hoes
were nothing but unemployed men,
and women, waiting for their welfare checks
Shiii, Ak-47s were nothin’ but baseballs bats
and butcher knives…my oh my how things change
Junkie maker, give me back my mother
Junkie Maker give me back, give me back my brother
Junkie Maker, give me back mother
and my brother, and my sister
and, my father….
|
||||
8. |
Insomnia in NYC
04:18
|
|||
I am happy to have her home
again, her eyes are filled with tired excitement
I do not ask of her, how was her night
what stranger she’s seen?
She’ll discuss this after the harsh outcries
of our next-door neighbor, as he watches
in anguish, the tv shooting of his favorite
hero. So, we sit listening, to the white-noize
of the ceiling-fan spinning endlessly into oblivion,
the junkie mother pacing the dimly lit stairwell
in search for her imaginary son, and Pete, the crazy, ex-con,
turned artist, trying to convince the night clerk
into allowing him to paint murals in all the ugly lilac-colored rooms.
In exchange, he shall have his room, rent free
slowly she peels herself out
of her blue-sequin dress, while lying
on the bed. I’ve prepared for her,
a tub of warm water, in which she washes away
the smoke and fingerprints of faceless johns.
She re-enters the tiny room,
I tell her, how our neighbor
screamed so loud, that he stopped
would-Be thieves in their tracks
after contemplating a robbery.
She gives a reassuring smile,
and gently pulls the covers over her
beautiful body. While somewhere in the night,
the sax player, fills her dreams with noize
lots and lots of white noize.
|
||||
9. |
Marching in the Mist
05:49
|
|||
When the smoke has cleared
and the bad guys have untied their
BMW’s and Volvos from their hitching’ posts
to drive back into the hills of Simi Valley
to greet their steamy-horny housewives
who await there arrivals like submissive June Lockhart’s
after another night of wife swapping in the game room
when PBS, PUBLIC BULLSHIt, ten years from now
broadcast to the viewing audience, another flashback
of a King being beaten, while peaceful protesters
sit in cracker-owned dives, where there ain’t no bread
being broken. When the helicopters hovering over another Crip,
dripping blood because of a crack deal gone bad
explodes like an overfed vulture, who’s eaten
too many niggaz in it it’s day, burns along side
Mr. and Mrs. Chin’s Wig shop that could duplicate
the afro that Rodney Allen Rippy wore
but will never manage the makings
of Marley’s natty dreads
Will YOU BE READY?
Or will you waste-time arguing over
If Gods chosen people are from Englwood
or Winnetka; while your smoldering house
crumbles like an etch-a-sketch drawing
with invincible Century 21 signs in your front lawn,
another archaeological dig, without you there
to correct HIS story
Will you be ready?
When all the bad guys
ride-off into the sunset
of another fake-azz, Hollywood backdrop,
taking with them, all the money and all the jobs
only to return to see if Nicholson got front row seats
with other whacked out popular nobodies, who all
secretly dream…” OH how I wish I was an Oscar Nominee,
so that everybody would know who in the fuck Iam!”
Will You be ready?
The bad guys are all gone now,
but they can still smell Watts, Detroit
Chicago, Washington Heights, burning through
there pig snouts, and pig dreams…
waiting for the smoke to clear
from their eyes….
Will you be ready?
|
||||
10. |
Planet D-Settlement
04:08
|
|||
Ladies and gentlemen
Welcome to the planet D-settlement
Wooooooooooooooooooooo
Woooooooooooooo
Wow mommy
Look how pretty it is
All I know child is that its too
Hot in here…
This is too funky
Welcome to the planet D-settlement
We’re going to take you higher
This is going on,
this is all the way live
Welcome to the planet D-settlement
We’re going to take you higher
Earth is snoring(repeat)
|
||||
11. |
N-Word (Part 1)
01:18
|
|||
Beware of the N-word!
Beware of the N-word!
N-word
N-word
Nanny goat
Nantucket
Nappydellick
Nipsey Russell
Nine and a half years
Nae, Nae
Mickle Bag
Nut-sack
She said NO
Never, never, again
Never, never again
Never, never again
|
||||
12. |
Don't Send Him Away
06:00
|
|||
Planet D-Settlement
Ladies and gentlemen
Welcome to the planet D-settlement
Wooooooooooooooooooooo
Woooooooooooooo
Wow mommy
Look how pretty it is
All I know child is that its too
Hot in here…
This is too funky
Welcome to the planet D-settlement
We’re going to take you higher
This is going on,
this is all the way live
Welcome to the planet D-settlement
We’re going to take you higher
Earth is snoring(repeat)
Beware of the N-word (pt 1)
Beware of the N-word!
Beware of the N-word!
N-word
N-word
Nanny goat
Nantucket
Nappydellick
Nipsey Russell
Nine and a half years
Nae, Nae
Mickle Bag
Nut-sack
She said NO
Never, never, again
Never, never again
Never, never again
Don’t Send Him Away
A knock, knock on the door
who is it that I see? A gentle stranger
staring back at me. He’s got my smile,
and he’s even got my hands,
tell me mama, who is this strange man?
I know he’s broke your heart
so many times before.
Don’t you remember how I sat through
all those tears. Call me a fool for believing in a myth,
why he left you mama, will never make any sense.
But in every wise old fool, there lives a wise old tale
In every wise old tale,
there lives a wise old fool
Can he stay or will he have to go?
Mama please, mama please
Don’t send him away
The last time that I saw him
was in a fading picture
dated October of 1964
young and handsome, with you by his side,
mama, who would’ve thought
It was all a bunch of lies.
Call me a bastard for giving second chances
Call me a no-good son for learning how to forgive
and forget. But mama he’s got my smile
And mama, he’s got my hands
Mama please, mama please
Don’t send him away
I know he broke your heart
I know he left you with six hungry children to feed;
but dammit Mama, can’t you learn how to forgive
and forget?
Mama please, don’t send him away
(Lonely whistle)
Hoo, Ha
|
||||
13. |
||||
14-year-old Corey,
boy don’t know how to read
or write. but he’s gotta gun.
Said he’s gonna kill the teacher,
You know Mr. Foster,
didn’t like the way Mr. Foster
gave him homework,
didn’t like the way Mr. Foster
gave him detention. Didn’t like the way
Mr. Foster would walk right up to him
and say, Hey Corey this isn’t the streets young man
This is School, this is where it all begins
This is my world, this my world, this IS MY WORLD…
Corey don’t take my guns to school
Corey, leave my guns at home
Corey, leave my guns along
So, its 11th period, right?
And Mr. Foster is standing in front
of the class, like a Jack Ass. And in comes Corey
thirty minutes late. We can’t believe the fuckhead.
And him and Mr. Foster are locking eyes like two Pit Bulls
about to do battle. You otha seen it, you otha seen it
And Corey he just walks up to Mr Foster,
and he takes it out man, and he goes
BAM, BAM, BAM! And we all just ran.
Corey was crazy like dat, he was crazy like dat
He was reeeeeal crazy
.
Corey don’t take my guns to school
Corey, leave my guns at home
Corey, leave my guns along
Blame it on his mother
Blame it on his brother
Blame it on his dead-beat daddy
Blame it on God
Blame it on that Nigga Ben
Blame it on Jessie Jackson
Blame on sexism
Blame it on racism
Blame it on somebody
Corey’s gotta Gotdam Gun
Woah, Woahhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Corey: Somebody please,
Say a prayer for me. Cuz I don’t know
Where I’m going. And I sho’n’fuck don’t know
what I’m Doing
14-year-old Corey
Boy don’t know how to read or write
But he’s gotta gun
AIN’T DAT A SHAME?!
Corey: I’m only 14 years old
I live in the ghetto
My mama’s on crack
I’m still a virgin
My skin is black
I still believe in Santa…ahhaha.
|
||||
14. |
Dinner Date
03:45
|
|||
Now if you are my dinner date my darling
I might have a special thing to say
But if you cannot deal when times get harder
It’s best you be right on your little way
But if you are my dinner date my darling (what?)
Then I might have a special thing to say (what’s that?)
But if you cannot deal when times are real
It’s best you be right on your little way
Hi’ya doing, oh my name is Freddie
Say what, that’s alright
You, you don’t do what?
Well, dats alright too
Your what hurts?
Gurl, I guess you better be on your way
Little gurl
But If you are my dinner date my darling (what?)
Then I might have a special thing to say (mm-hmm)
But if you cannot deal when times are real
It’s best you be right on your little way
It’s best you be right on your little way (It said, the ad)
It’s best you be right on your little way (The ad said freak)
It’s best you be right on your little way (You don’t do what?)
It’s best you be right on your little way (Your what hurts?)
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
So wha’cha gonna do
‘How long has it been?
You ever been to Mars?
Na I haven’t but I’ve been to Chicago…
What’s’ dat you got on your cheek
Der’girl? All that’s baby juice
Come here, come here girl
if you are my dinner date my darling,
then I might have a special thing to say
but if you cannot deal when times are real
It’s best you be right on your little way
Cuz you mama said
You Better…see’ya later
|
||||
15. |
Merry-Go-Round
04:16
|
|||
Merry Go Round
Merry go round
Once you go up
You must come down
Merry go round
Merry go round,
around, and around
and around….
There once was a woman
Who stood by her man
College sweethearts til the end.
In her eyes, he could do no wrong.
Candle lite dinners, two kittens
and a baby girl, they name Brat
Merry Go Round
Merry go round
Once you go up
You must come down
Merry go round
Merry go round
Around, and around
And around
Then came October
It was bitter, it was sweet
a rude awakening, she soon would meet
for in her bedroom, down
on his knees, laid her husband
with a woman, she once called,
her mom….
Merry Go Round
Merry go round,
Once you go up
You must come down
Merry go round
Merry go round
Around, and around
And around
“That was my man,
You didn’t even use protection”
A round and round
Around, around, and around
Round and around
Around and around.
|
||||
16. |
Have You Ever Seen?
02:04
|
|||
They say, he got crow in his blood
They say, he got crow in his blood
They say, he got crow in his blood
Have you ever heard a doggie bark bow, wow, wow,
have you ever heard a baby cry boo, hoo hoo?
Have you ever seen a fox go trot, trot, trot,
have you ever seen a rabbit hippity hop, hop, hop ?
Have you ever heard a gun go pow, pow, pow,
Then why in the hell are you here for?
Have you ever, seen,
have you ever dreamed?
Gonna have to show you what you never seen and more,
before your work makes you poor,
your feet become sore, and you just can’t take no more
Have you ever, ever seen,
have you ever dreamed,
tell me then why in the hell are you for?
You run for the door; you say what’s it for
Then suddenly you feel that you might need more
Yo bust it
Have you ever seen the core of an Eeyore
Have ever seen the shore, on a sea tour (those hammer head sharks might bite your ass)
Have you ever, ever heard a lion roar,(in the jungle, the funky funky jungle)
Then why are you here for?
THEY TOLD ME THIS WAS A FUNKY PLACE!
Have you ever heard a doggie bark bow, wow, wow,
have you ever heard a baby cry boo, hoo hoo?
Have you ever seen a fox go trot, trot, trot,
have you ever seen a rabbit hippity hop, hop, hop ?
Have you ever heard a gun go pow, pow, pow, pow,
Then why in the hell are you here for?
Have you ever heard a doggie bark bow, wow, wow,
have you ever heard a baby cry boo, hoo hoo?
Have you ever seen a fox go trot, trot, trot,
have you ever seen a rabbit hippity hop, hop, hop ?
Have you ever heard a gun go pow, pow, pow, pow,
Then why in the hell are you here for?
|
||||
17. |
||||
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Sweet Rochelle
Pretty Rochelle
Ghetto mullatto,
From Alsip Colorado
One day she asked her mother
about her long-lost father
How does it feel Rochelle,
To have yo bauble busted?
How does it feel Rochelle
To mistrust all those, you called
Yo’friends ?
Rochelle,
Pretty Rochelle
Sweet Rochelle
Ro…
How does it feel Rochelle,
to have had the world
In the palm of your hands?
How does it feel Rochelle
To loose control?
How does it feel Rosie?
(tell me, tell me)
To know,
How does it feel Rochelle
To be, just another BLACK GURL
A Black gurl
A black gurl
A black gurl
A black gurl
How does it feel Rosie
to hate, yo white mama?
How does it feel Rosie, Rosie
To hate, you white daddy?
How does it feel Rosie, Rosie, Rosie,
To know?
How does it feel Rochelle, to be
Just another
BLACK GURL
A Black gurl
A black gurl
A black gurl
A black gurl
How does it feel Rosie,
to have Miracle Whip,
Instead of Helman’s?
How does it feel Rosie, Rosie Rosie
always waiting to get
your groove back?
How does it feel Rochelle,
to go UIC instead of the U of C?
How does it feel Rosie,
to eat Kellogg’s Cornflakes,
Instead of fuckin’Captain Crunch?
Ro, sweet Rochelle
Freaky Rochelle, Freaky Rochelle,
Ro, sweet Rochelle
|
||||
18. |
Yesterday
03:59
|
|||
Ok, this is what I was thinkin…
Yesterday
When we were one God,
love connected us to the
most high. All one drum grooving
to one drum. Yesterday when were one
with God. We say, heyyyyyyyyy, naw,naw,naw,naw naw
Yesterday
Yesterday
When we were one God,
love connected us too the
most high. All one drum grooving
to one drum. Yesterday when were one
with God. We say, heyyyyyyyyy, naw,naw,naw,naw naw
All one drum
All one drum
|
||||
19. |
Governmental Wolf
04:43
|
|||
Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf
He’ll huff and he’ll puff
And he’ll blow your door down!
Hey Mis’tah
You got dat nice fine lawn,
how would you like it
If I build a sports bar next door to you?
We’ll call it Mr. Magoo.
And hey sister, you got dat nice
find condominium, how would you like it,
If I built a CHA next door to you?
We’ll call it mixed income housing baby
I’m the big bad wolf
I’m big bad azz wolf
I’ll huff and I’ll puff,
and I’ll blow your fuckin’ door down.
I play the race card baby
I ain’t afraid of you.
That’s how the west was won,
that’s how the south was lost.
I’m a big bad wolf, dressed
in chic clothing baby. I’ll be
your yellow school bus! I’ll take
all your little problems, away.
I’m a big bad wolf
I’m a big bad azz wolf.
I’ll huff and I’ll puff
and I’ll blow your fuckin’ door down
Look, look, it’s the big bad wolf
Huffin’ and puffin’ on another beedi
Look! It’s the big bad wolf
Comin’ through yo door,
got you shook, asking me for a beedi,
actin’ like he down with me,
but he don’t know me, he wannah be free,
using his money like a shank
Putting all my money in ‘his bank.
Take away what we started,
make us feel like we ain’t got no heart
with each other, acttin’ like my brother.
Separation is the name of his game.
Ain’t it a shame!
He ain’t shit,
see, I know his hold trip
I ain’t afraid of that punk
yo who’s afraid?
I ain’t afraid, we all need to get together
split that motherfucker’s wig today.
Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf
The big bad wolf, the big bad wolf
The big bad wolf, the big bad wolf,
I play the race card baby
I ain’t afraid of you
It’s how the west was won
It’s how the south was lost
|
||||
20. |
N-Word (Part 2)
02:27
|
|||
Bill Cosby
and the late Esther Rolle
near sighted
9:30pm
Nairobi
Nic, nak
No neck
Nit wit
She said No,
Never, never never, again
She said no mo’fucka
I don’t want yo funk
I’m just here to dance
BEWARE OF THE N-Word
N word
N word
N word
Beware of the N word
Napsack
Nae, Nae
199
Nicklebag
Noo now,noo now,
Noo now,now,now
Newborn
199
Nickle bag
Noo ni, ni, ni, ni, ni
|
||||
21. |
Jury Duty
01:47
|
|||
Voices; Ahoooooooooooooooo
Should we let’em live,
Should we let’em die?
Should we let’em play in the NBA,
should we let’em sign on the dotted line,
should we, should we?
Jurors:
No, he never knew his mommy
and he never knew his daddy
No, he never knew his mommy
and he never met his daddy….
|
||||
22. |
Trouble A Come
03:53
|
|||
Woo – woo
(repeat)
Daddy was a preacher-man
He loved the choir singers
He’d meet ‘em ‘hind the pulpit
They, played u’neath their robes and
Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho
(repeat)
My Momma used to meet her men
On 45th and Winston
She’d take ‘em in the alley
Wouldn’t see her till the morning and
Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho
(repeat)
That’s what happens when the brothel
Has a steeple and the people, don’t even know
That’s what happens when the bible
Turns evil and the people, stay for the show
Woo – woo
(repeat)
People refuse to see
The truth behind the lie
Preachers, love to throw Jesus
When folks they doing wrong
Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho
(repeat)
Jesus is my only friend
And he ain’t even listening
Too busy playing doctor
Wit all the freaky devils and
Hidey-hidey-hi, Hidey-hidey-ho
(repeat)
(chorus)
|
||||
23. |
||||
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
And now she’s finally happy
And now she’s finally happy
And now she’s finally happy
And now she’s finally happy
Late one night
I can hear them creepin’
Down the stairs
Out’da back door
Into his car
And off into the night
he drove and in comes my mama
actin’ like a shiny bald head
tryin’ and fittin’ into clothes
she could never fit into before
but all I know is dat his name is Larry
got two jobs, and he talks like Barry
and if I had a cristal baqll
I can see into the future
and tell’ya how long it’s gonna last
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
Look at my mama, with her baaaad self
Oh, happy day
And now she’s finally happy
Oh happy day
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
And now she’s finally happy
And now she’s finally happy
And now she’s finally happy
And now she’s finally happy
Ring, ring goes the telephone
It’s my daddy actin’ like 411
but I don’t hate the man
remember the time when he
Use to get down on his knees and
Play Barbie with me. But the man
had a temper, like some cold Chicago winter
and when he got mad, it was really bad
and we all got snowed on; now my mama’s gotta
new boyfriend, yeh, yeh, yeh
Momma’g gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
Momma’s gotta new boyfriend
And now she’s finally happy
Oh, happy day
Getting her hair fixed
Getting her nails done
Got a new dress on
Got a new attitude, oh yea
Yeah she’s finally happy now, now
Oh, happy day
Oh, happy day
Oh, happy day
|
||||
24. |
Gerald
07:26
|
|||
Oh gerladdddddddddddddddd
What’sup with you man?
Ain’t no role models
In’da hood for Gerald
Ain’t no role models
In’da hood for Gerald
he don’t know, if he wants
to be a boy or a girl
Their ain’t no role models in’da hood
for Gerald
Daddy say, “Why you gotta be dat way”/
Be a man boy, act as strong
As you can. Then he gets down on his knees and pray
To a God he don’t even understand…
Father: Be a man, be somebody,
When I was age, I had thangs
Money, cars, clothes, and women
I always had women
Don’t everybody wannah be
like Mike. Dunk a ball, Fly high
in’da sky. Don’t everybody
Wannah be a Disciple, drive the CTA
or deliver’yo mail
Hey, ain’t it shame,
Some people gotta die first
before they can be free?
Free’yo mind and yo ass will follow
Free, Freeee. I wannah be free….
Free, freedom spelled backwards is freeeee
Got his head stuck
in’da oven, 350.
Say he’s gonna take a trip
to see his long, lost mother.
Don’t know if there’s a heaven or
a hell, but wherever he goes
it’s gotta be better than this BIG,
tiny world we call’da hooooood.
Mama I’m a girl
Mama, I’m a girl
Mama I’m a girl
I’m Gerald
Let’em be
Let’em be
Let’em be
|
||||
25. |
The Number Man
04:41
|
|||
I am Number Man, I count, do you?
I will show you (he will show you)
I will show you, what to do
(repeat)
Watch the signs right outside your door
It’s like, it’s like, it’s like crazy!
Whoa!
Play the platinum card
Counting all the targets down, down, down
La la la lala la… Whoa!
I am Number Man, I count, do you?
I will show you (he will show you)
I will show you, what to do…
Well? (he will show you)
I will show you, what to do, what to do, what to do
Watch the skies, as they turn to dawn
It’s like, it’s like, it’s like crazy!
Whoa!
Play the platinum card
Counting all the targets down, down, down
La la la lala la… Whoa!
I count, do you?
I got money and things yeah!
I drive a very nice car oh, oh, oh, oh, ooh
I do, do you count, count, count?
Whoa, a revelation
I do, do you count?
Oh…oh, oh, oh
I am the Number Man
I am Number Man, I count!
|
||||
26. |
Mr. Sullivan
05:39
|
|||
Here’s a little story that must be told
Pajamas in the daytime make his heart cold
He’s got a little window, it faces outdoors
The clock keeps ticking t-tick, t-tick, t-tick
When the sun, when the sun refuses to shine
Through your windowpane…
When the birds outside your door
No longer sing in harmony…
When your next-door neighbors son
Refuses to mow your lawn
And your Filipino nurse curses you
And eats your lunch…
Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, he’s 99 years old
Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, God rest your soul
When all the money you saved
Can only buy you an expensive grave
(When you die, when you die, when you die when you die, die, die)
When your pretty, young wife makes it clear
She only wants your cash…
When your Negro son-in-law kisses you
And calls you Papa…
And the clock upon the wall
No longer tick-tock-ticks…
Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, he’s 99 years old
Goodbye Mr. Sullivan, God rest your soul
(Repeat 1x)
God bless your soul
God bless your soul
Here’s a little story that must be told
Pajamas in the daytime make his heart cold
He’s got a little window, it faces outdoors
The clock keeps ticking t-tick, t-tick, t-tick
The moral of the story must be this then
Don’t drink beer and eat cake, it will make your belly ache
Hickory-dickory-dock, the mouse, ran up the clock.
|
||||
27. |
Bronzeville
07:22
|
|||
Ahhooooooooooo
Splash, Pow, giggy, giggy, giggy ,
Ahoooooooooooo
Splash, Pow..
Blew the whistle on his own
and now, he’s on the run. Good guys,
good guys, they don’t last in’dis here town.
Gotta bible in his hands, think he’s gonna save
the world, but that day gonna come,
when he’ll, he’ll have to learn. That even superheroes,
superheroes, can get burned.
When nightfall’s over old Bronzeville
when nightfall over old Bronzeville
when nightfall’s over old Bronzeville
when nightfall’s over old Bronzeville
Son plea, daddy don’t go, daddy why you gotta,
where you going? Mama, sitting, drinking crying in’da rain.
What made that man,
what made my daddy, turn so cold?
No’mo jumping on’da bed
no’mo games of hide n’ seek,
daddy going pursue, his lifelong dream.
But that day gonna come,
when he’ll have to learn
that even superheroes, superheroes
can get burned.
When nightfall’s over old Bronzeville
when nightfalls over old Bronzeville
Broken glass and heartbroken dreams
they’ll steal yo’soul for a lousy,
two’dollah sammish
GO HOME BOY!
DIS AIN’TNO PLACE FOR NO BRIGHT EYED BEGGINNERS,
GET OUTTAH” HERE BOY
GO HOME BOY!
Take’yo bible, and yo’God lovin’ ways
and go back home to West Virginia….
THEY’LL STEAL’YO SOUL, OV’AH A LOUSY,
TWO-DOLLAH SAMMISH
Splash, Pow, woop’now giggy, giggy
Splash, Pow, woop’now giggy, giggy
when nightfall’s over old Bronzeville
when nightfalls over old Bronzeville
Broken glas,
heart broken dreams
nigh fall ov’ah old Bronzeville
When nightfall over old Bronzeville.
|
||||
28. |
Intro (Brown Eyes)
01:22
|
|||
Once upon a time, in a blue, blue sea, lived a very lonely dolphin. He spent his days searching the silvery waves for his true love. One day, he spied a beautiful girl feeding the ocean with her tears. He fell in love. Each day, the dolphin would swim beneath the rocks, hoping to be captured in her lovely brown eyes, to speak with her, to share his love. And this is how he spent his days: watching her from afar, happy, in love.
|
||||
29. |
Brown Eyes (Miss D)
05:03
|
|||
(Intro)
Ooooo
Baa da da da da daaahhh
Dooo Doooo
Doo do do do do doooo
(VERSE 1)
Brown eyes on Miss(D).
I try
to see reflections of me.
I ask why
you can't understand me.
Without saying a word (without saying a word),
you speak volumes to me.
She's in you.
When she walks she floats.
Her self tales
Inner wonderment.
You drink her in.
(VERSE 2)
Brown eyes are so Miss(D).
In them I can swim so endlessly (so endlessly)
She's so deep (she's so deep),
I feel myself falling
(falling),
Falling
(falling),
Falling
(falling, falling),
without saying a word.
I hear you calling, calling, whoa.
(BRIDGE)
She's in you.
When she walks she floats. (When she walks she floats)
Her self tales
Inner wonderment
Dying for time (Ba da dwee ahhh)
Hoping (Ba da Dwee ahhh)
that I get a chance (Ba da Bop da da de ahh)
To stare into (Ba da dwee ahhh)
Your (Ba da Dwee ahhh)
Infinitely ( Ba da Bop Bop Bop)
Miss(D)
Eyes
(BIRD SOLO)
Da La La La La La la la Laaaa
Do do do do do dooooo
Do ooo oooo ooo oooooooo
Duuummm do Dummm
Duuumm do Dummm
Dooooo
(OUTRO VOCAL REFRAIN)
Brown eyes on Miss(D).
Brown eyes are Miss (D).
Brown eyes are Miss (D),
yeah, baby, baby.
Brown eyes are so Miss(D),
Baby…
doo oooo ooo ooo ooooooo ooo oooo
|
||||
30. |
Hangman
05:50
|
|||
Sarah Good-Hanged-July 19, 1692, Owen Anderson-Lynched-November 8th, 1889, Shaka Sankofa-Lethal Injection-June 22, 2000 Year to year, month to month, day in day out It's the obsession that never ceases Never rests, never relents How do I kill thee? Let us count the ways Do I drop a tablet? A little alka-selzter with a lethal twist? Or maybe give that hot shot of arsenic? Taking the A-Train down the mainline to oblivion? And who can't wait to get their hands on that switch? Snap, crackle,pop, fried up the latest entree 'til it smelt like burnt toast. America has a love affair with the Hangman It's better than sex Oh baby, oh baby, oh baaaby The peak hits the moment we hear the snap of the neck The gurgle of the throat, the sight of that lifeless torso Swinging back and forth Back and forth in the cool summer breeze Fuck baseball, this is the national past time Complete with trademarks and single-minded striving To beat all countries in the lynch mob competition While some may be satisfied with the bronze or silver America, America, America wants nothing less than the gold America has a love affair with the hangman *America has a love affair with the hangman It's better than sex, oh baby, oh baby, oh baaaby* Ponchai Wilkerson-Lethal Injection-March 14 2000 Mary Connell-Lynched-October 4th, 1916 John Proctor-Hanged-August 19th 1692 It gets the best ratings, brings the most entertainment value Keeps us happy and content and barking like coyotes at the moon Die, die, die goes the never-ending chant, throw us out another piece of meat We're so damn hungry one may not be enough one may not satisfy All eyes watching the countdown like it was journey to the far reaches of an unknown galaxy And not just another quick trip to the morgue It's our religion and we worship with regularity, in god we trust but in death we rejoice In the name of justice, in the name of the sacred standards of society In the name of civilized behavior, kill one you're a menace, kill a dozen you're a psycho Kill a hundred you're a war hero, kill a hundred thousand and you're a world leader With the admiration of a nation and a place of honor at the head of any dinner table. America has a love affair with the hangman Girvies Davis-Letha Injection-May 17th, 1995 Julius and Ethel Rosenberg-Electric Chair-June 19th, 1953 Giles Corey-Died under torture-September 19th 1692 It's in our blood, in our history, in the air we breathe the food we eat The final solution to everything standing in the American way To everything that don't fit in, that don't obey, that don't beg at master's table Always remaining the ever so ungrateful slave, ‘til the voice is silenced Words removed, memory erased and body buried out back 'til the weeds and tall grass cover up, all evidence of the crime America has a love affair America has a love affair America has a love affair… With the hangman
|
||||
31. |
Jury Duty (The Verdict)
01:53
|
|||
Voice of the Public Defender:
“Your honor. People of the court,
Greg Williams is not a killer…
now I know that might come as surprise
to some of’yall, but Greg Williams
he ain’t no choir boy, but’ders one thang
I know fo’sho, Greg Williams, did not pull
dat trigger. Ya, see folks, if we put Mr. Williams
future in our hands, let’s make certain,
that we don’t turn his past into his
potential future.
Jurors:
But he never knew his mommy
and he never met his daddy.
No, he never knew his mommy
and he never knew his daddy
|
||||
32. |
||||
Uncle Alvin lost
all his dreams,
checked into a rehab
so he could save his soul.
found a God that he could trust
last I heard; he had a family of three.
Flipping burgers at a restaurant,
don’t come around the old hood
no’mo. But it’s a great day in’da neighborhood
great day in’da neighborhood
It’s a great day, in’da neighborhood
a great day in’da neighborhood
Old man Wilson
to’po, to live along.
Spent his last dollah, playing lottery.
Say he’s gonna check-out his favorite
baseball team. Ain’t seen a game since the Giants
retired Willie Mays
Freddie ain’t dead
he just the quit gang
traded in his guns for a ‘Free
Mamia Shirt’. Sittin’ on a Greyhound
headed for Detroit. Will he be coming back?
HELL! I dunno. But it’s a great day in’da neighborhood
A GREAT DAY IN’DA NEIGHBORHOOD
it’s a great day In’da neighborhood
A GREAT DAY IN”DA NEIGHBORHOOD
it’s a great day
it’s a great day
it’s a great day
it’s a great day
it’s a great day
It’s a great day
it’s a great day
It’s a great day
It’s a great day
We ain’t got no Starbucks
we ain’t even gotta 711,
in our neighborhood, people gonna
start respecting and loving one another
|
Marvin Tate's D-Settlement Chicago, Illinois
D-Settlement were Chicago’s best-kept secret: a trailblazing, diverse band mixing R&B, soul, punk, gospel and funk with biting wit and political commentary. Led by Marvin Tate — a poet, artist, playwright and raconteur who wore pipe cleaners in his hair — and supported by a large, dynamic cast of characters, their music was both of and ahead of its time. ... more
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