Bangers

[Intro: 9th Wonder] When the slave masters found out they we were singing to each other to run. When they found out we were singing spirituals to run to the North. They found out we were putting messages in our songs. From 1988 – 1993, Black college enrollment went up 47%. And that was because of the music. That was beacause of … I didn’t know about … the only four black people I knew about was Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King, well five, George Washington Carver, Booker T. Washington, and maybe Malcolm X, depending on what school you went to [Verse 1: MK Asante] Live from the flames of Baltimore What you call this you don’t call it war? Tanks in my hood—no aquarium No thanks, Nat Guard, ain’t scared of em Buzz cuts in Humvees, hunt me, bluntly Cuz I be the color of blunt leaves Leavin streets redder than monthly’s Black life, we on that month-to-month lease So we burn this bitch Wake up, shoot a scene like I’m Ernest Dick My jawn, caked up, she done earned this dick Stakes up, memoirs of an earnest kid Unforgettable, super un-fukwitable MK insurance, acclaim critical No assurance even with insane visuals Hype when they indict, slave residuals (Ha!) And I get paid in miracles Don’t get played, man, they aim subliminal Behind bars, super-maxin minimals Jump on a Nottz Raw track, wax spiritual (sheesh) Measure my net worth in megahertz So much death in my turf got megahertz And I’m use to pain, I think I’m better hurt Kurt Cobain, ngh, with death I flirt Killadelphia, Pistolvania Learned how to play ball with a hanger They used to cut ya balls off when they hang ya Balls like these so rare they endangered Bulletproofed the Range, rarely in danger Out ya range, dog, Mesopotamia With my young boys rearranging our anger Indie 500 on the system—a banger! [Verse 2: HALO] No yolo, slime on the dolo Jamla paramaters we bounce like Pogo Hands down we the best no promo Dubai, Soweto to Soho Acapulco blueberry lemonade loco I’m so faded can’t you tell Get off Twitter, my nigga, you can’t spell Embarrasing as hell, oh well, ‘nother brain fail As I skip to my Lou, it’s gotta be the shoes Better yet the man in the move with the grooves Of the record needle, righteous never evil We the better people, Zulu Knievel Still putting TV’s in your whip, huh? Mispronouncing Maybach and shit, huh? Chicken chop light on the sauce though Black Jedi Nomad go where the force go .