Judge a book by its cover
We are who we are
You are who you are
Black, fresh, African and proud
Gag at your breath type of cats
Who just don't give a rat's ass if you live or die
Ask me and I'll tell you why, why
My heart aches of a thousand cries
Bare in mind, I am a soul lost in historical lies
Manipulation of events by your kind, disabled my rational
I am now a pimp by blood, not relation
Who roams the streets at night with a loaded gun
Lost in time and never to be found
I survive, only to make your precious life mine
Any price, I am willing to deductably pay, upfront
Do you not know, Uncle Sam is now family to me
When my father died at seventeen, he took care of me
Fed me, clothed me, sheltered and molested me
I am the man, the Lord shall judge for your demise
