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letra de hate - constant flow

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[verse 1]
i call them crackers, call them whites, call them mixed, call them guaps
call them ‘victs, call them kikes, call them pigs, call them cops
call them judges, call them lawyers—they call me spick, it doesn’t stop
i’m out my mind, living off [?], hit this watch
got my pistol c-cked, ready to rock these anglo-americans
‘bout to l!ck a shot at these gang full of arians
these blue-eyed devils are demons to us nephilims
we angelic and they jealous ‘cause they got recessive genes
but wait a second. take a look at your reflection
and answer me this question: what is your complexion?
son, you know someone in your family was from spain
and we all come from africa—our family is the same
you insane, talking k!lling white people with uncertainty
but for certain, someone in your family was from germany
so murder me… i mean you…
‘cause we light-skinned just like whites. dawg, we all the same people

[verse 2]
i call them n-ggers, call them coons, call them jiggaboos and porch monkeys
then laugh at they culture like jumping over the broom
they ham bones, banjo-playing, [gitchi?]-talking bammers
buffoonery, bamboozled into being sambos
these tall babies starve crazy, flash rappers
let’s send ‘em to liberia or poor parts of haiti on the daily
lately, i’m thinking ‘bout burning down city blocks
littered with liquor stores, abortion clinics, and them chicken spots
k!ller, stop. we can undo them four-hundred years of oppression
starting with your grandfather’s hand—now listen
uncle david had a ‘fro, so why you talk smack
look at tia [?] and ti ti ide there—they all black
look at your cosmet. carlos from way back
someone in your fam was a slave—let’s state facts
eleven-million went to latin america
so yeah, you a black dna carrier

[verse 3]
and to you soccer-playing, well-versed at taco station operations
pop-playing, [?] grow and don’t learn sh-t like potty training
while it hit, dumb cholo gangsters should have been aborted
anchor-baby-having b-tch, border-hopping alcoholic
this a force that can’t be bound by barriers
so i’m that minute man that stop the browning of america
clear out the area. man, they don’t worry me
‘cause we gon’ do them like we did to the cherokees
word up, c. you know you dead wrong
looking at your native grandpap, he made you headstrong
tough life, teflon, that warrior spirit
inspired by his words, what you talk in your lyrics
you learned from him and now you walk you fearless
you talk of k!lling brown people—you should be embarr-ssed
you being careless. you taking it too far
new america: black, red, and white—that’s what you are

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