| Ohh
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| (Whipped and hanged)
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| Whipped and hanged
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| And didn’t do a thing
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| That’s the price paid
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| For the color of your skin
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| Stole my history
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| And now it’s a mystery
|
| How can you know where your going
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| If you don’t know where you been?
|
| (Grand Puba)
|
| Ay yo, shoot off the nose
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| Shoot off the lips
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| Don’t let the world know
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| Black people did this
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| Keep 'em in line
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| With the crack of the whip
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| Teach 'em their history
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| It started with slave ships
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| It’s time to look past all that, man please
|
| How many of my people done swung from trees?
|
| How many of my people in the past we lost?
|
| They constantly remind us of the high, of course
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| But when we speak on it they say that we whining
|
| Snatch your resources down to your last diamond
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| I do this for my ancestors
|
| Ain’t nobody alive gon' tell me I should let that shit ride
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| Nowadays the old heads are scared of the youth
|
| Pull the tree from the roots and ya kill off the fruit
|
| I’m so in tune with the universe
|
| So I unify my people when I spit my verse
|
| My melanin underneath my skin
|
| Let me know I was here when the earth begin
|
| (Lord Jamar)
|
| Medgar Evans
|
| Emmit Till
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| Somebody said let the Black blood spill
|
| In the ghetto we attack that whip
|
| They got a thing called crack that kid
|
| Malcolm X
|
| Huey Newton
|
| Ain’t no need for the Klan
|
| 'Cause we do the shootin'
|
| We need to stand for a revolution
|
| Or fall into the hands of a institution
|
| Sean Bell
|
| Timothy Stansbury
|
| Blood fell, same color as cranberry
|
| Every time we lose a man my heart is heavy
|
| Ready to break like a New Orleans levee
|
| And I testified that yes I cried
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| Over the years some of our best have died
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| And I poisoned my peers like a pesticide
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| You can run, but
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| There’s nowhere left to hide, look
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| We used to play out in the rain
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| But now our blood spills down the drain
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| We kill ourselves with nothing to gain
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| It’s time to break those bands and chains
|
| I know we got a Black man in the White House
|
| But there’s still Black fans with the lights out
|
| Still got the bad man at the crack house
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| Sister Prez can you tell me what’s that about?
|
| (Rell)
|
| Oh yeah
|
| Where you been and where you come from
|
| Teach your daughter and teach your son
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| There’s too many of us we dyin' by the gun
|
| We create worlds when we think as one
|
| (Grand Puba)
|
| Now they changed Egypt from Khemet
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| 'Cause they knew it had Black in it
|
| Tell a bunch of lies and document it
|
| Take history and spin it
|
| Don’t you people know that most of this stuff
|
| Up in this country we invented?
|
| (Lord Jamar)
|
| Yo, same story
|
| Ever since they came for me
|
| And made me change my name
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| It’s been a struggle
|
| Always forced me to hustle
|
| Time now we change the game
|
| We used to play out in the rain
|
| But now our blood spills down the drain
|
| We kill ourselves with nothing to gain
|
| It’s time to break those bands and chains
|
| I know we got a Black man in the White House
|
| But there’s still Black fans with the lights out
|
| Still got the bad man at the crack house
|
| Sister Prez can you tell me what’s that about?
|
| (Whipped and hanged)
|
| Whipped and hanged
|
| And didn’t do a thing
|
| That’s the price paid
|
| For the color of your skin
|
| Stole my history
|
| And now it’s a mystery
|
| How can you know where your going
|
| If you don’t know where you been?
|
| If you don’t know where you been
|
| Somebody tell me
|
| They wonder why we’re crazy
|
| We gotta get back |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I See Dead People, artist - Grand Puba. Album song The Contemporary Classics, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп