| Yeah, ooh
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| Mighty mighty Magnolia
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| I was sittin' up under these trees
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| She was talkin' to me, said
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| «Son do you know who I am? |
| Who I happen to be?»
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| And I told her, «The Mighty Magnolia that stand tall for the shoulders of
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| slaves and soldiers when the days get colder»
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| I’m so older but I’m young in my spirit
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| From the blood I’d hear it
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| From Mr. Malcom Garvey and Marley
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| Then she started to tell me
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| How she was used in the lynching of blacks
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| Branch cracked, broke her arms so his neck wouldn’t snap
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| And if I wouldn’t rap, I’d probably meet the same damn fate
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| From the same damn rope, I’m 'bout the same damn weight
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| I said, «Wait, man, wait»
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| I still got the nooses just loose and they tighten that bitch up
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| When I’m speakin' the truth
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| They need proof that God exist
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| So, I gave The God Box
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| It ain’t shit hard as this, it ain’t shit hard as this
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| Flick a wrist, I flick a brick
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| An O, I still get this dough
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| These bitches know
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| Everywhere we go, it’s Mississippi, ho
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| Peace the dro
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| This some old outer space ballin, spacecraft callin'
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| Black George Jetson, Juice City jack kawin'
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| Paintin' pictures of scriptures
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| I know that ya’ll missed us
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| Crackers out here stackin' they army
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| Tryna enlist us
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| You pissed us off enough to clique up on your ass
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| The last shall be first and the first shall be last
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| No average, no savage, this King Ruler
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| Billion dollar freedom fighter
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| And I take it if I gotta, nigga
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| Cracker
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| Oh, Mother Magnolia
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| Your daughters and your sons
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| Made the sky start cryin'
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| As they hung lifeless from your arms
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| Please, Mother Magnolia
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| Although, the fruit is strange
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| It’s been such a long time comin'
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| But will the seasons ever change?
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| Let me try to offer ya’ll a whole 'nother perspective really quick
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| Now, this African American officer was an undercover
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| Who lost a little brother because of a gang color
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| Which, eventually, accelerated the cancer that killed his mother
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| And he was married to a white woman that they called a nigga lover
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| And it became a full time job not to kill a nigga
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| I wonder does he still consider that he’s still a nigga
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| We’ve all got choices, and the real recognize what’s real and chose
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| But he’s basically still undercover in his civilian clothes
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| All the right reasons
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| But he may not even get that love again
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| 'Cause salary’s still not enough to be a Republican
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| Issues of growing up without a dad
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| Had one too many one night and forgot his badge
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| A brawl ensued with a racist cop
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| Didn’t stop and ask
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| 'Cause he was sure that he was a nigga when he shot his ass
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| Oh, Mother Magnolia
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| Your daughters and your sons
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| Made the sky start cryin'
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| As they hung lifeless from your arms
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| Please, Mother Magnolia
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| Although, the fruit is strange
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| It’s been such a long time comin'
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| But will the seasons ever change?
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| If a tree could speak
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| It’s probably shed a tear and weep
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| For the skin like mine
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| For being there behind Confederate lines
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| Mighty Magnolia
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| Mighty Magnolia |