| Go tell em, go tell em
|
| Go tell em, go tell em
|
| Go tell em, go tell em
|
| Go tell em, I’m gon' tell what they don’t tell 'em
|
| We been under water since they threw us in the boat
|
| Sellin cotton pickin' blues
|
| Rock and roll, real role builders
|
| Serving white America before we was dope dealing
|
| Brick laid the birth of a nation, it’s the Roc
|
| White house, black man, plantation, it’s Barack
|
| But we still can’t cross the street
|
| Without the cops trynna Zimmerman us while the whole neighborhood watch
|
| They chained us to the auction block but now we changin' the locks
|
| 'Cause even Bill O’Reilly daughter out here drinkin' Ciroc
|
| Now that’s what I call the 21st Century Fox
|
| Where Megyn Kelly try to tell me Santa’s white
|
| It’s in town
|
| Murder us right?
|
| I just remember rap stars the new Bach
|
| I pull strings like the orchestra, shut down your corporate
|
| Nat Turner
|
| Run up in the doors to your Nordstrom with a hundred niggas ready
|
| And a hundred thousand more for ya
|
| I see the future Martin Luther dreamt when he was a man
|
| I feel the blood my momma fought for
|
| See the scars on her hand
|
| Oh tell me there ain’t no looking back now
|
| Oh lord, as far as I ran
|
| So take these chains or give me death
|
| Either way we coming again
|
| Go tell em, go tell em
|
| Go tell em, go tell em
|
| Go tell em, go tell em
|
| Stripped from the family
|
| Ripped from reality
|
| Belly of the beast to the grips of the tragedy
|
| Couldn’t touch my soul so they whipped my anatomy
|
| I re-wrote the script when they thought they had mastered me
|
| Now I’m counting up the casualties
|
| Mounting up the calvary
|
| Riding with a master piece
|
| Shotgun shells show you God when they blast for me
|
| Running like a wolf when they send the dogs after me
|
| Fighting for my freedom, yes I had the audacity
|
| Hangin' from the trees, black blood on the leaves
|
| Jumping overboard, black bodies in the sea
|
| I die on my feet 'fore I live on my knees
|
| So you know I’m not begging if I say «Nigga please»
|
| I see the future Martin Luther dreamt when he was a man
|
| I feel the blood my momma fought for
|
| See the scars on her hand
|
| Oh tell me it ain’t no looking back now
|
| Oh lord as far as I ran
|
| So take these chains or give me death
|
| Either way we coming again |