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

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