| Confront the day, I want a way to make sense of it
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| Yeah, it’s a maze-ment
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| The turn of the world and how they see you
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| Ye already said they see us as black Beatles
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| Black people, open Hebrews
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| Let it speak to the saviour inside
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| You’ll see why the world needs you, cathedral
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| Black bodies fallen in the hands and the clutches of
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| Descendants of the Dutchman — Anglo motherfuckers
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| That don’t love us, wranglers, it’s in their genes to cuff us
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| We the tribe of Levi, cut them jeans knee-high
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| I think that it would be wise to read the book of Eli-jah Mohammad
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| And see why we’re prominent
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| Life’s precious of lessons upon it
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| Our mother’s grandmothers should be called iconic
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| Life’s precious of blessings upon it
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| I don’t know what we should call it
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| Some say it’s love, some got it lust
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| They say that we’re free but we’re falling
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| So what should we call it?
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| Blood on the leaves, it ain’t autumn
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| The weight is so heavy, it hurts underneath
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| Now it seem that we got it the hardest
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| And we keep on falling
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| They say racism and it don’t stop
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| They talk sexism yeah, it don’t stop
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| Americanism yeah, it don’t stop
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| You gotta get that wisdom and get your Glock
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| Before they hit your block with the National Guard
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| Yeah, you’re protected by a compassionate guard
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| We hunting for jobs, being hunted by squads
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| It’s a small world, we want it at large
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| America’s most neglected and arrested
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| That’s why your vaccine, I gotta second guess it
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| We don’t know what you’re shooting Black kings and Black queens
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| Plus, your health record ain’t really that clean
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| We don’t forget like Nat King, what happened in Tuskegee
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| We’re getting over high blood pressure and diabetes
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| Like trees, we fall in the wilderness of America
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| Is it you don’t hear us or don’t care for us?
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| I don’t know what we should call it
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| Some say it’s love, some got it lust
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| They say that we’re free but we’re falling
|
| So what should we call it?
|
| Blood on the leaves, it ain’t autumn
|
| The weight is so heavy, it hurts underneath
|
| Now it seem that we got it the hardest
|
| And we keep on falling
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| Once upon a time there was a Black man
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| They loved him when he shot ball
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| They loved him when he ran
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| They loved him when he rapped
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| They loved him when he danced
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| But really didn’t love him when he was out with his fam
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| Couldn’t love him in the hood or selling CD’s
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| And couldn’t love her when she was in her house sleep
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| I’m wondering if this love if it’s really love at all
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| 'Cause in that type of love we fall
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| I don’t know what we should call it
|
| Some say it’s love, some got it lust
|
| They say that we’re free but we’re falling
|
| So what should we call it?
|
| Blood on the leaves, it ain’t autumn
|
| The weight is so heavy, it hurts underneath
|
| Now it seem that we got it the hardest
|
| And we keep on falling
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| Ooh, we keep falling
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| Ooh, we keep falling
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| Ooh, we keep falling
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| Ooh, we keep falling |