[Intro: Uno the Prophet] Every time I turn on the radio All I hear is: nigga this, nigga that (Nigga! Nigga!) Mixtapes: nigga this, nigga that CD's: nigga this, nigga that Motherfuckers say nigga? I say cracker real freely
*Most people avoid discussing racial differences Though differences exist, it's not only bad taste dimensional It places one in the awkward stands of being labeled as a racist*
[Verse 1: Uno the Prophet] These touchy subject, man, I specialise Realise, I analyse, then I criticise Beat biter, dope style taker, you're the Killer of culture, motherfucking vulture You stole the soul, jazz, rock 'n roll Those who can't control, put 'em on the payroll Or on the whole stroll, so when they gon' go They won't act so bold, but that story is so old Nat Turner, devil burner, won't conform to 'em no mo' So and so-so, but ban my shit cause some ho told I got facts for your emotions, I got truth for your lies I got words for the wise to open up your third eyes And the fact is, the main thing that hip hop lacks is A general consensus to the original lace of blackness And anything else is wackness, pussy all talk slackness I'm a child of destiny, say my name if you jack this
*The subject is a touchy one, you know* *Think about that, think about this*
[Verse 2: Esoteric] Listen dog, I got respect for that But take a second to check where my perspective's at I came up in '85, I'm almost 30 Never brake under pressure, my bones are sturdy There, you've got to face the facts You know we've got white boy spitting blazing raps Soul words coming out them of the Asian cats Bigger tracks on the road that's paved by Latino's and blacks New jacks be concerned, this shit's hard to earn Before you get a turn to burn, you must learn I'm just speaking my brain, ain't trying to steal rap And start teaching the pain Mc's like myself ain't preaching for fame In a minute roll a style that will cheapen the name Please entertain for a fleece and a chain Bring the least and no reigns But are we different? The rap industry is the same Look, I symphatize with your reason for blame Most white cats flowing is a seasonal thing But I spit facts, fact rebel, won't sell out, won't settle How could you possibly call me a devil? In '86 I was writing rhymes, reciting lines from my favorites (Like who?) Like BDP, Kool G Rap, EPMD and RUN DMC Local cats like Orange Man, I endorsed the man I supported like fam, the essence, I'm trying to bring it back I ain't the cat that you want to point the finger at
[Verse 3: Uno the Prophet] Who raped and who killed? Who destroy and who build? Who fulfilled the prophecy? Who made this thing a mockery? You ain't jotting properly, cracker rocking sloppily Ain't no stopping me, hip hop to me is black people property You're like boy band and pop to me, there ain't no equal [...], from Shaka Zan all the way to Jigga I say cracker for every time I hear nigga Original boom-bapper, cracker backpacker smacker My shit be sweeter cause the motherfucking berry blacker Don't come with eluded concepts or material ideas My shit be concrete, repped the streets for years My shit be complete, on a level with no peers And I ain't going living myself and moving according to your fears Me, I switch gears, let humid ears hear All these cats who be acting come nowhere near here Take a look at the crook and all the shit that they took Already got a gun, son, get yourself a book Touchy subjects that I touch, people say it's too much But I ain't got no master, see, I'm faster, smoke a Dutch
*The subject is a touchy one* *Most people avoid discussing racial differences Though differences exist, it's not only bad taste dimensional It places one in the awkward stands of being labeled as a racist*