Pharoahe Monch - Black Hand Side lyrics
rate me(Feat. Styles P & Phonte)
Chorus (Phonte)
I say open the door, let me in,
Teach us all, preach your sins!
Turn the cheek, let it slide,
Give me five on the black hand side!
The black hand side, oh!
Oh, oh the black hand side!
The black hand side, oh!
Styles P)
Give me five on the black hand side,
I’ll tell you what I see through the black man’s eyes!
Fly chick, in the Cadillac, a black man ride,
But every different day a different black man die!
Shawty momma tripping off of crack, mad high
Now he watching TV, loving the bad guy!
Piss poor wit a Welfare check you know he African,
Cause he ain't get help there yet,
Now he puts down his knapsack, Got a crack pack
You don’t overstand if your vision ain’t abstract!
We in the projects, a lot of us is lab rats,
Voted for Obama, hoping he wouldn't have that
Now I can tell you that I felt hell
I felt it!
I still remember how a cell smells
I still remember how the pigs act
Family cryin' up on the V.I. couldn't dig that
Open the door and teach your song,
Pass the blunt around hopin' that it reach us all.
Now give me five on the black hand side,
Ghost and Pharoahe Monch watch the black man rise!
Chorus (Phonte)
I say open the door, let me in,
Teach us all, preach you sins!
Turn the cheek, let it slide,
Give me five on the black hand side!
The black hand side, oh!
Oh, oh the black hand side!
Give me five on the black hand side!
Oh, oh the black hand side!
Give me five on the black hand side!
(Pharoahe Monch)
Pharoahe's a Navajo chief, the way I'm making it rain
But never for a stripper with emotional pain (uh unh)
Do it despite the system that was meant for the brain
Cause rain, seed, plus soil equal fruits and grains
My hood told a nigga: Keep it simple and plain
Let me explain the game, break it down a couple levels like Tetris
These young-ens kill they own blood for a necklace
Leave slumped over the wheel of your Lexus
Smoke Kush, wake up and eat breakfast,
What the fuck he expect?
A generation overly obsessed with mobsters
Our revolutionaries want Grammys and Oscars
Imposters, fake auras, and weak shockers
Making a mockery of the music to be pop stars,
And they say I’m insane, 'cause I see the remains of the whips and the chains
In my hood where it ain't all good
Peep the pain of a single mother, she strugglin',
Young child slain, give me five on the black hand side!
Let’s maintain like the Soul Train and keep it moving together,
I’m saying:
Chorus (Phonte)
I say open the door, let me in,
Teach us all, preach you sins!
Turn the cheek, let it slide,
Give me five on the black hand side!
The black hand side, oh!
Oh, oh the black hand side!
The black hand side, oh!
Give me five on the black hand side!
Give me five, bro, give me five!
Give me five, bro, give me five!
Give me five, bro, give me five!
Thanks to STD for correcting these lyrics
Thanks to BlackJack-M45 for correcting these lyrics
