| Bad News travels fast
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| And if it’s about you you’ll probably hear 'bout it last
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| But when they press up
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| And check up
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| And they ask
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| You gotta keep perspective on the future and the past
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| And laugh
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| While they keep talkin'
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| Talk, talk, talkin
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| Chicken heads keep squawkin'
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| Power of the spoken word is infinite
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| You can tell
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| Cuz people are always talking
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| Talking on the run, talking while walking
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| Talking in line, talking in circles
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| Talking in time all over the world
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| Talkin' 'bout whatever’s on their mind- that’s fine
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| Talkin' 'bout who they hawkin, who they watchin, who they clockin
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| Who they heard was up to something poppin'
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| Always talkin' about who they remember and who’s forgotten
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| Who’s rockin' the set and who’s floppin', droppin' out
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| Talkin' 'bout people from the cradle to the coffin
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| Talkin' 'bout people, talkin' 'bout people, talkin' 'bout people
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| Talkin' 'bout people non-stop talkin' often
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| People talk shit
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| Their minds reinforce it
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| Spittin' out words and thoughts that are amorphous
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| Pushin' sloppy sound out of their vocal orifice
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| Like it ain’t bein' recorded
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| Sometimes a words scorch is worse than torches
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| Whats more
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| Is the talk ain’t uniform or rehearsed
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| It’s the richest, the poorest
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| From CEO boardrooms to porches to alley ways and gutters
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| From coast to coast, east to west, south to north
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| It’s people talking of course!
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| Like life is a courtroom
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| Most bullshittin' from midnight to high noon and back again
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| Blacks and the Blacker thans
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| Whites and the Africans
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| Far to little action far to much satisfaction
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| In philanderin' usin' sex like a sedative
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| Repetitive like rhetoric
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| I’m bettin' ya think ya nice cuz you give free add-vice right?
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| But unless you got a tight alternative it’s best to let it just live!
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| And raise the octave up to the positive
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| Even though they try and stop you up
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| Arteries cloggeded
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| The Black man targeted that’s how they set it off, they said it
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| But in the end it will be only them that’s effected by they negative vibe
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| I know it hurts, there is no indigestion worse
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| Than that which comes from having to eat your own word (s)
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| I heard two (2) people need not bicker in a burning home
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| But some people know how to live everybodies life but their own so
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| Here’s the poem dedicated
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| To the hatred propagated by the ill-fated
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| Snakes that’s waitin' in grass
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| Those that talk the most got the least to say
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| But that ain’t nothin' new
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| And it ain’t even really all that |