Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song White Man's Burden, artist - X-Raided. Date of issue: 13.08.2001
Song language: English
White Man's Burden |
| My fore fathers was bought and sold, raped and sodomized |
| Now after eight hundred years you decide to apologize |
| Apology not accepted, too late for repentin' |
| Time to ride, homicide to William Clinton |
| That ass rippin', penetrated with baseball bats |
| Shoot him up with heroin and get him hooked on crack |
| Black folks been sufferin' in the United States |
| These United Snakes got us in divided States |
| Shell-shocked, Hell’s got to be here on Earth |
| In the ghetto circumstances can’t get no worse |
| Certain chances we takin' to survive, we got no choices |
| So we rappin' hopin' we can make it happen with our voices |
| I was too small for football, too short for hoops |
| So I rode with the Crips and cliques thick with troops |
| X-Raided them tricks hated but I don’t give a fuck |
| Uneducated bitches don’t realize they stuck |
| You’re oblivious to the fact that your life is hideous |
| We’re holdin' our own and we don’t need you to pity us |
| Plus, we got our own kind holdin' us down |
| Those who sold their souls, but it’ll be cold |
| When we catch you, I bet you’ll receive the death sentence |
| Turnin' racist generals into pulp non-fiction |
| Circumcision the «G» way |
| Murder the D. A |
| Hit 'em with hollow slugs, show him no lee-way |
| It’s too late for apologies fuck your sorrow |
| Doin' it one day at a time yellin' «Fuck tomorrow!» |
| In the streets it’s crack, guns, and infected bitches |
| Genocide on the down-low, the White Man’s wishes |
| My father figures was Arnold «Schwarzanigga» and Sly Styllone |
| Puttin' visions of murder in a nigga’s dome, early on |
| I grew up, watchin' Al Pacino and Nino Brown |
| Tarentino is the one who let me know how to put it down |
| Television created a gang of niggas like me |
| We learned how to kill at home watchin' T. V |
| It poisoned my mind as a youth |
| Introduced me to money, mayhem, and murder, I’m the product it produced |
| Let me loose to prowl, now they sayin' I’m a killer |
| Cuz European ideology’s all about the scrilla |
| Ain’t y’all feelin' the devastation you’re causin' the Earth? |
| Steady exploitin' the milk of this bitch for all that it’s worth |
| When it’s ready to blow up, they gone leave this World and go on to Mars |
| Leave us torn and everybody up will be reachin' for stars |
| Why my people so caught up in money, cars, and bitches? |
| Don’t you realize, you’re fulfillin' the White Man’s wishes? |
| Lord forgive for all the blood that his body bled |
| And all the tears that his Mommy shed |
| The book says «Thou Shalt Not Kill», but I’ve seen more blood spill |
| Than all them vets on Hamburger Hill |
| It’s real post war syndrome |
| I went to see my homie but his Mama told the homie been gone |
| And every time I turn around, it’s a body on the ground |
| Fresh gun shot wounds, but he didn’t hear a sound |
| When he came out the womb, nobody told him he would be dead so soon |
| The gauge went BOOM |
| It’s America, I know you got a cure for AIDS |
| We need a cure for rage, on the rampage |
| Can you feel it? |
| The tension’s in the air thick |
| And hate got me so high I’m gettin' airsick |
| You got my people broke, lookin' for a buck to borrow |
| Doin' it one day at a time, FUCK TOMORROW! |
| Fuck your song! |
| I want revenge! |
| I got a beretta named Vendetta |
| Time to answer for your sins nigga |
| And when you meet your creator tell him I said, «I apologize» |
| But I gotta ride… |
| — repeat til' fade |