Why am I trapped in a cage?
The nappy heads are comin out
Barber can I get a fade?
The nappy heads are comin out
Teacher teacher check my grades
The nappy heads are comin out
I grab the mic in a rage!
You maintain to put a negro in pain you used to diss me
You sure you wanna hang with old Eddie Kane
Aint nuttin wrong, so snap your head to the song
Word is bond, you get wrong, Ill have you sing like Louis Armstrong
And I say to myself, what a wonderful world
But what the fuck was so wonderful bout pickin cotton, on a farm?
The harder they come, the harder they fall, so come one come all
Dont stall or Ima stick you like a voodoo doll
Doors locked stop draw for the count, who drops?
Ten-nine-eight-seven-six-five-four-three-two-one
-You-slept-on-a-kid-from-the-boondocks
Out of Hooterville land of the ill kill
Bellsburg Viking so you know Im top ranking Phil
Some say newcomer like the yuma but save the rumor
Cause Ive been rockin ever since eighty-three
When I used to rock my Pumas
Rap, narcotic psychotic so hear the sentencin
One out of ten, Im passin the mic next time Ill get wicked
Heard the man who went before, got intimated
You tried to gas me up, too much gas, you got intoxicated
You wasnt ready for the realn, dealin, chillin
Wyclef, no competition when Im bringin pure death
Im jumpin like a monkey to get mines off
A-from a caterpillar, to the mic moth
The nappy heads are comin out
Teacher teacher check my grades
The nappy heads are comin out
I coulda sworn I had an A
The nappy heads are comin out
I grab the mic in a rage!
You put, one and one together now you think you a rapper
Baseball cap backward, forearms swingin like a hip-hopper
You do the rhyme, thinkin no one can stop ya
I be the followin that chop ya down as I clock ya, hah
When I say five-oh, I mean fifty not guns or cops
Now heres the heavyweight knocker, the freedom fighter
Natural rhythm rock a mic I always rhyme Im never drinkin vodka
Any old style, I throw it in a locker
Well Im a Gucci rocker, I never drank no vodka
Me got no bag of cheeba cause I never had a knocker
My cousins name was Shaka, for short we called him Aka
I flip it on wack MCs because to me they flow like caca
You boogie move the groove, nothing to prove you lose
Your style remind me of yesterday, old news
Sad sung blues whos, chose the one to feel the pain
Or bring the cane, tick-tock I come to pick your lock
Its not a capital gain
So watch out for the remain, or cry from bloodstain
Bustin nuts, bustin style
Gettin buckwild some think Im the descendant of a wilder child
Comin on the mic, from a higher level
Broke is no joke choke the hell out of the devil
The nappy heads are comin out
What about Martin?
The nappy heads are comin out
What about Malcolm?
The nappy heads are comin out
Rosa Parks?
The nappy heads are comin out
You hung a man after dark
The nappy heads are comin out
Cease the violence
The nappy heads are comin out
Yo who got the power, to make a man raise from the dead?
Some said that it was Jesus, they said he was a notty dread
But I dont mean to confuse a world thats confused
Minds atomic, so like a bomb, let me drop it
Cant get too deep, cause some sleep while I wake
In a dream thats made of wine but let me bring it back to grapes
Teacher, explain the parable, its simple
Its easier for the camel to go through the eye of a needle
Than for you to enter the kingdom, or battle
And walk away, with the title when I get, brutal
Feelings are mutual so sign your life, to Prudential
Dont even flinch, the other becomin spiritual
Theres six million ways to die but choose four
Cause I can still be in the desert buttnaked and be hardcore!
When checks that means pump your fist
Remember Moses people, this is Exodus
Dont try to stop this, the force comes from Genesis
Them who did us wrong, ask the Lord for forgiveness
The land that Im from aint the land of the dumb
We droppin the bass drum, then we
You cant kill the battle with a horn, blam blam, silly Joshua
So march to St. Lawrence
Yo march I got your back, march!
Crown Heights
The nappy heads are comin out
Cease the violence
The nappy heads are comin out
A moment of silence
The nappy heads are comin out
For those who died
The nappy heads are comin out
Public Enemy
The nappy heads are comin out
Number one
The nappy heads are comin out
Fredric Douglass
The nappy heads are comin out
Harriet Tubman
The nappy heads are comin out
Aristide
The nappy heads are comin out
Bob Marley
The nappy heads are comin out
Prazwell
The nappy heads are comin out
To my man Khalid
The nappy heads are comin out
Now, speak of resistance, were nappy heads
Rhymes, kinks, braids and dreads
The mother of creation, epitome of creativity, yeah
And keep your heads nappy