| Crack open the good times
|
| On a street corner busting rhymes
|
| But you fell between the lines
|
| They all laugh, become a joke
|
| Am I crazy baby let’s all hope
|
| For narrow halls, crunching drums
|
| I’ve got the sweets sugar but that’s all
|
| Tell me what it’s worth
|
| Tell me what it’s worth
|
| So tell us that we’re spelling everything wrong
|
| Negroes turn a blueish gray when they’re dead
|
| Well that’s funny 'cos I’ve just turned bright red
|
| Red, red, red
|
| Kill, kill, kill when everything starts to suck
|
| Drowning all your sins boy well I guess that’s bad luck
|
| Or the fact that your race is full of shit
|
| I’ve got the sweets sugar but that’s it Tell me what it’s worth
|
| Tell me what it’s worth, whoa, whoa
|
| Clean your blades and keep swinging
|
| Don’t stop till the red runs out
|
| Till no more joy pours out of your mouth
|
| Tell me what it’s worth
|
| (Don't, don’t stop till the red runs out)
|
| Tell me what it’s worth
|
| (Don't, don’t stop till the red runs out)
|
| Tell me what it’s worth
|
| (Don't, don’t stop till the red runs out)
|
| Tell me what it’s worth
|
| Whoa, whoa |