Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Baronze Obama, artist - Bronze Nazareth. Album song Bronzestrumentals Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 03.08.2009
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Baronze Obama |
Yo, It’s just the thoughts I been thinking and writing |
So yeah, Yo, It’s that shit be, Yo |
Yo I was, Born with that black oil in my veins |
Civil War of the brain, Let’s dig to the core of the pain |
Guantanamo Bay, Torture chambers hidden away |
Nigga my kid’ll get sprayed if I stay in the ghetto too long |
Like Gapetto been pawned |
Now the puppet back with the bushes next to the White House lawn |
Unemployment checks make us think they trying |
I ain’t buying it, Can’t afford it |
One slip and it’s off into that mental coffin |
One mistake, One ticket, One license plate out of date |
Lead to jail time cause by bail crime was too much to pay |
Had me buying similac with iron while you ate for free |
And then rob off employees and they had steak for beef |
Like Erwin in the reef, When we burning in the streets |
They used to hang us, Bag us, Tag us, Same as Katrina relief |
Some say they heard explosions when the levies was breached |
Detroit schools shut down, No money to teach |
But we in the Middle East setting up Governments for free |
Where’s the mathematics, Where’s casino money from the gambling attics |
Automatics, Sort of tragic but it’s reaching, Bullets torn across your fabrics |
You left us behind with no choice to react quick, Let’s widen the gap |
Then front a machine to his face, Tryna kill Africa with AIDS |
Just like crack when it spreads to the people they want relief |
(But I ain’t buying it nigga that’s raw beef) |
Keep his thoughts to himself though |
(But I ain’t buying it nigga that’s raw beef) |
He keeps his thoughts to himself though |
(But I ain’t buying it nigga that’s raw beef) |
I keep my thoughts to myself though |
Cause if I don’t I don’t make it though |
Yo, He keep his thoughts with the bushes, Dope pushers, Crack addicts |
That’s where we stash at, Sky view carries action |
Come feel the pulse in my palm, Grip the seal like handle bars |
Raised in the slums where graves get dug |
Grandma’s knit rugs until cancer devourers their thoughts |
From floor lights, Spiked tap water in vaults |
A cauldron of thoughts stay bake’n in my mind oven |
Without pay realize there ain’t no ways other |
Some’ll rise in other men when the time is chosen |
How could a tree grew up right if the roots is poisoned |
Keep the loaded shells spray tucked away, Meet my left deltoid |
Grimm Reap make you sleep animation boy |
Like bounced checks, Empty clip, Remy fifths to sip |
Certified mail, Burning high ale, Smile still |