| Run, man… hurry up, hurry up
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| They coming, they coming, man!
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| Keep going, keep going
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| Move, move, move, move, hurry up
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| Move, move… don’t stop, don’t stop
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| Hurry up, man… move, move, move, move
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| They gon' kill us, hurry up… uh
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| 18 to 28…
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| They got a bounty on my head and a tag for your toe
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| I’m here to sing a song, til they let my people go
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| Real about, turn about, my chrome forty four
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| Everytime I pull it out, it’s fuck Jim Crow…
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| It’s like Moses and Pharaoh, now it’s the Big Apple
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| I’m just a runaway slave, these devils can’t tackle
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| We slippin' out of handcuffs and breaking out of shackles
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| I’m Nat Turner in the mind of a time capsule
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| We not no Buckwheats or Little Rascals
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| Or Diff’rent Strokes, or whatever have you (watch your mouth)
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| A lil' fame… a record deal don’t make your freedom
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| If man don’t live by bread alone, how we gonna feed him
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| So I choose to bring the truth about the seed of Edem
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| But they swift with cunning words, and they still deceive 'em
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| Your best rapper swinging 'yes, master', when they beat 'em
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| Chris Columbus came with a fungus, recognize ya’ll in strength in numbers
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| They went from cowboys to bounty hounters, the FBI’s hopping out of Hummers
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| Taking your kids and your grandmothers
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| Your niece and nephews, and your baby brothers
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| Abraham Lincoln’s and nigga lovers…
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| No matter how you see it
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| They try’nna tell me I can’t blow, cuz I ain’t tapdancing like Sambo
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| My pants low from that Black Market commando
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| I stand poor righteneous, truth and straight facts
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| Whoever ain’t runaway slaves’ll get snatched
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| Keep going… keep going…
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| While it’s wars in Lebanon, I write it like King David in psalms
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| See I was born to the horns of Sara Von
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| It’s Ariel Sharon, the suicide bomb
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| Nat Turner nightmares and chasing Uncle Toms
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| El Raziel, codename, be Metatron
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| I got 'em open like dope veins from methadon
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| Without a right to bare arms, I’m mentally the don
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| You can’t fuck with the God, he’s seven bars beyond
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| They love to hate it, and translate it and read it wrong
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| My definition is non-fiction, I rhyme different
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| Than your every day rap gimmick, design image
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| You invented a clone, a DNA digit, digit, digit
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| Boo! |
| Hurry up, hurry up, man
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| Hurry up, man
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| We gotta make it out of here, man
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| Who are me, when are we gonna stop it?
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| And on that night (we gotta stop somewhere, man)
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| Seven men escaped… nowhere to be traced, nowhere to be found
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| Go north, go north, they gon' hear us
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| They took the shackles off they hands
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| They took the chains off they feet
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| And they ran… and they escaped the wilderness |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Runaway Sambo , by - Hell Razah. Song from the album Renaissance Child, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп