be the one You may try to break us down Can't you see we're here to stay Scores of them have tried before At our feet is where they lay It's our calling
'll be the one You may try to break us down can't you see we're here to stay Scores of them have tried before At our feet is where they lay It's our
and gentlemen Welcome aboard Official Nastee Airlines, flight 188 Intro/Chorus: Onyx Kill it in the club, baby show some love My real thugs, where you
Her lips Passing like a comet so white As to eclipse The waltz wound down, transfixed Devoid of all breath in the air Even Death paled to compare To
Laugh now but cry much later Ya see when niggaz get together they get mad cause they can't fade us Like my niggaz from South Central, Los Angeles They found that they
made beats But fools just lay and prey on the weak It don't depend on the color of a rag Cause if you got what they want you know they gonna take what
these animals eat that's how they talk bout us While they shed they joke and laugh puttin a choke round us Can I get a moment of SILENCE Cause they claimin
... I saw the light of a thousand angels taking it on the chin I saw a hundred demons raging suffering blights upon there skin Just as the woman lay
chef she spilled the beans on where they had gone Upstate Schenectady, Tamika answered the door It was the last person she expected to be They just stared
out the raw Peel out the four, with the fifth attached The impact, was forced, you caught the kick back Clap the star, where the bullet was lodged in
s creation - all must see Heavens Hell God has fell Sound the knell Where time and space collide Mortals sit and watch the tide Of Angels crashing up
is scared where Faith resides TO CROWN THEM WITH HALOS - they come and they come TO CROWN THEM WITH FIRE - their Black work is done TO CROWN THEM WITH HALOS - they
top framin the game, use muscle for the hustle I zip duffle bags to muffle fags Scuffle my knuckles bad on niggaz that think that they runnin shit They
hunted, the colonizing and savages The only challenge is, did they bring enough to dirt to bury us? Be aware, I hunt with the god as a cerabus Where
of jasmine tea with Mandela Africans chantin me on like Coachella Ghostface bom ba ye, kumbiya my Lord My death day, 24 karat tomb I lay Wishin they could
Complaining that their handcuffs are too tight Kicking on the cell till they cut out the lights It's like a curse Walk besides white women they start holding they
