Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Andrew Mandela, artist - Propaganda. Album song Crooked, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 18.05.2017
Record label: Humble Beast
Song language: English
Andrew Mandela |
| Ah, ah, thank you, Mr. President |
| You sat inside a celly for more than a quarter a century |
| And in my country, that mean you caught a felony |
| Forget about running for office boss, you ain’t even voting |
| When you write your own rules, you can never lose |
| And the colonizers called you terrorist and run the schools |
| So it must be true, they say the problem was you |
| But I been to Cape Town, bro, what was you 'posed to do? |
| Ooh, God forgive me for my brash delivery |
| But I remember vividly what apartheid did to me |
| And what recent years taught us, peacefully protesting |
| No one’ll care until someone tosses a molotov in the air |
| It ain’t fair, but you called hate a cancer |
| Said love was the answer |
| And gladly took 10−25 with your fist high |
| Refused to accept death until the end of apartheid |
| I take shots at your sacred cows |
| I dance with skeletons in closets |
| I point at elephants in the room |
| And make a mockery of heroes |
| Yeah, pick your poison |
| Pick your poison, boys, pick your poison |
| Pick your poison 'cause it’s all deadly |
| Ah, ah, thank you Mr. President |
| All hail the tough-as-nails Mr. Old Hickory |
| When you write your own rules, you could never lose |
| They say you a hero and they run the schools |
| And this land is your land except Louisiana |
| We just bought that, now we got a destiny to manifest |
| Which means current occupants must vacate immediately |
| It seems in your homeland, you are now trespassing |
| You witnessing the birth of the Indian reservation concept |
| Imagine China putting flags on your doorstep |
| And said God sent 'em, so get to gettin' |
| But the story of the victor is the one that gets written |
| Ooh, God forgive me for my brash delivery |
| But I remember vividly what Lewis and Clark did to me |
| His face is on our currency, the struggle is real |
| A man whose legacy is literally a trail of tears |
| Ooh, I take shots at your sacred cows |
| Dance with skeletons in closets |
| I point at elephants in the room |
| And make a mockery of heroes |
| Ayy, pick your poison |
| Pick your poison, boys, pick your poison |
| Pick your poison 'cause it’s all deadly |
| Will the truth it set you free? |
| Depends on who you read |
| While we qualify our blame, we’re spewing partiality |
| And we’ll never leave the past if we keep leaving out the facts |
| So you can pick what side you’re on |
| And you can pick your poison |
| Yeah, pick your poison |
| Oh, pick your poison |