The year Two thousand and seventeen, master The man Every two thousand years a prophecy is prophesized The mission To carry out the word of the shephard into this cold world That just keeps folding The group I don't know Who is the group? Tran-Tranzlators
What can make a mighty man run? Make him drop his pride and hide? Too black, too strong, wrong Spook Sambo Nigga Jane You ain't so bad nor big White sheets make you sad
'Fraid you're gonna hang, ahh Now that's a black thang Boy, you scared of me Boo! See Hide nigga hide, flee nigga flee, run nigga run If I got my hood, my cross, my tree, my gun My rope and it's a long one