क्रेडिट्स
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Coleman Cruz Hughes
Songwriter
Ebenezer Fabiyi
Composer
Jeremy Michael Coleman
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Coleman Cruz Hughes
Producer
गाने
Back with the pen
Took a sabbatical, at it again
Look at my attitude after they called me a Tom and Rae
Called me a coon,
It's a ten
Bitch it's a ten
Don't tell me who to offend
Losin a few of my friends, yah I've been
Booted from public events
And it was all over something i said
Cuz it was
Blasphemy
Never was lackin' audacity
Point to a flaw in a fallacy
Bred on a different mentality
Committing that blasphemy
Bet all the bull shit is passin
Trust that you ain't seen the last of me
Pray I don't end up like calvary
Over some blasphemy
Make it official, charge me with thinkin and put me in prison
Serving a sentence for sentences written
Shoulda known better than to have an opinion
Got about 100k of my minions
I could lose half still fill up a building
With a few extra to spare like michelin
Lemme stop there cuz I know what you thinkin
You just sayin shit for white people
Nigga you ain't hangin wit the right people
Bruh i bet they keep you on a tight leash
Before they bring you out so you could fight people
Lemme school you like boy Q with the bucket hat
Drop yo' fuckin uncle ruckus act
Stop forgetting that you fucking black
Cuz the pigs won't when your hands up and the pistol's
At your fucking back
Our hands up, police profilin'
Your hands out for these Koch dollars
And that ain't half of it
This shit don't stay in the past does it
We built the nation from scratch honey
And we still ain't seen the cash from it
So get out the way
Ain't tryna hear what they pay you to say
Ain't nothin changed
10 to 1 wealth ratio yesterday, it's the same as today
So go ahead, make a name for yourself, do what gotta
Do for the fame and the wealth
I'll say it backwards, you an out and a sell
Fact is you ain't nothing but a cracker in stealth
Slavery, slavery, slavery.
You dwell on the past, but lettin it go, that requires more bravery
And last time i checked, they all in the grave or they in Mauritanie
I'll pass on the check cuz for my lowest fee
Uncle Sam couldn't pay for me
I feel with my heart, but think with my head,
Mix up the parts and we'll all end up dead
Race is a fake idea, put it to bed
Ain't no debate i said what i said
And my name is my name
Coldman
I got love for the world in my soul man
I am black, i am white, i am all man,
We all stuck in between like toejam
I'm an American, Omni-American
I really don't GIVE a fuck about
About the color of keratin, or who you fairer than
Li had a Greek as my therapist
I made this beat from a theremin sample?
That ain't the shit i inherited
From the culture that me or my parents lived
And it's still G.A.S. like Sarin is.
So I'm little bit evuncular
All y'all could nibble all deez nuts ya'heard
I'm unapologetically from the burbs
But like apostle paul I bring the word
I'm in the business of brute facts, you see
Im in the business of new blasmephies
I've taken for bullets for two magazines
And backhanded shots at me like Agassi
Like I need your permission
All of you trippin
All of you blinded by colorful vision
All of the stories you tell are too simple
Y'all heard of Floyd but y'all ain't heard of Timpa
I don't fear gettin shot by a cop
I fear my mind gettin brainwashed by a mob
I fear a right getting made from coupled wrongs
I fear what I call truth y'all gonna call: blasphemy
Writer(s): Coleman Hughes
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