The year
Two-thousand and seventeen master!
The man
Every two-thousand years a prophecy is prophesied
The mission
To carry out the word of the shepherd into this cold world
That just keeps folding
The group
I don't know,
Who is the group
Tran-translators!
[Lauryn Hill]
What can make a mighty man run?
Make him drop his pride and hide?
Too black, too strong, wrong
Spook sambo n***a jane
You ain't so bad, nor big
White sheets make you sad
Fraid you're gonna hang,
Now that's a black thing
Boy, you scared of me
Boo! see
Hide n***a hide, flee n***a flee run n***a run
If I got my hood, my cross, my tree my gun
My rope
And it's a long one