
Date of issue: 30.09.1991
Song language: English
Nighttrain |
Land of the free, but the skin I’m in identifies me |
So the people around me energize me |
Callin' all aboard this train ride |
Talkin' 'bout raw hardcore, leavin' frauds on the outside |
But the bad thing is anyone can ride the train |
And the reason for that is cause we look the same |
Lookin' all around at my so called friend |
Light skin to the brown, the black, here we go again |
Homey over there knows Keith an, but he be thiefin' |
I don’t trust him, rather bust 'em up |
Out goes his hand and I cough |
He once stole from me, yeah I wanna cut it off |
The black thing is a ride I call the nighttrain |
It rides the good and the bad, we call the monkey trained |
Trained to attack the black and it’s true |
Cause some of them lookin' just like you |
Stayin' on the scene, sittin' on the train |
See all the faces look about the same |
There go the sellout who’s takin' a ride like Cargo |
Cause he deal the keys from Key Largo |
Runnin' Nat narcotic, by George he got it |
Takin' makin' the Gs erotic |
And the fiends they scheme, so he can put 'em down |
But his method is wreck 'em, I put 'em in the ground |
Got the nerve as hell to yell brother man |
He ain’t black man better yet he’s Pac Man |
Known to murder his own, traitor on the phone |
Ridin' the train, self-hater trained to sell pain |
The master’s toy, his little boy |
Hard to avoid he look wit' it but he null 'n' void |
Cause he ridin' the train you think he down for the cause |
Cause his face lookin' just like yours |
More of the same, insane who sayin' |
I’m flowin' like nighttrain, runnin' the pain of the black reign |
You look, you laugh, you doubt and go out |
And I’m gone, but the bass goes on |
To talk the talk, but walk the walk, the king of New York |
Crack a lack, attack the black, to crack the back |
Once again I test a friend with sincerity |
Or consider him an enemy |
Who am I to tell a lie, rather push the Bush |
Hope the cracker gets crushed, I’m rollin' with Rush |
Leader of the bum rush |
Russian I ain’t! |
Spreadin' like paint! |
Lookin' at the pot I got and it’s kickin' |
But it ain’t chicken, but it’s livin' for a city, so sick 'n' tired |
Of a scene buckwild |
Piled in a file, senile or child |
They said it never been no worser than this |
I’m on the nighttrain, they hope ya don’t miss it |
Give ya what they got to give you, just go |
You musn’t just put your trust in every brother, yo |
Some don’t give a damn, cause they the other man |
Worse than a bomb, posin' as Uncle Toms |
Disgracin' the race, and blowin' up the whole crew |
With some of them lookin' just like you |
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