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letra de the plantation - fashawn

[intro: samples and fashawn]
“woo-hoo! vanilla ice cream, and i’m gonna take me a big l1ck!”

“any one of them n-ggers gives me any cr-p, i’ll lay them out…”
“you do that then…”

uhh, check it out, yeah

[verse 1: fashawn]
in a neighborhood, predominantly black, was a house party
a typical game of cr-ps and cognac
heard the commotion, when somebody hit a seven
saw a pack of black queens hopping out a white lexus
gangstas on the front lawn, function in the back
a bunch of wild africans who don’t know how to act
rat in my ear talking ’bout “can we leave now?”
took her to the attic and stared to sweat her weave out
i bust a nut and reemerge out a weed cloud
to the party, f-ck it if whoever saw me (stop)
my foam cup dirty with the lemon-lime
three uninvited guests enter at the same time
white dudes with swastikas tatted on they arm
surrounded by n-ggas who’d be glad to do them harm
not even fair, they outnumbered and gotta be aware
i could smell a problem in the air
they strolled through and everybody gazed
pretty obvious they’re not afraid
“let ’em live.” that’s what mama miss golly said
but my partner big linky pulled a chopper out instead
interrogative, asked if they knew where they was at
they had to, these honkies look a little too relaxed
said they only came for the b-tches
that’s when suddenly i heard a bang from the distance
n-ggas scattered as the door opens up
went from three to 100; now there’s more of them than us
if you ain’t bring a firearm you should duck
or hit the floor and be a fortunate one to survive
they sn-tched linky by the neck, gave him one in his head
i went and grabbed the nine under his bed
he had bad karma, dirty sweat below the rug
in debt with various thugs, had an aryan plug
that he robbed months ago, they’re back for revenge
gave him a bullet for every stack that he spent
explains the skinheads crawling through his crib
no mercy, they shot mama golly in the ribs
poor linky left his noodles on his couch
i could finally get away, or try and shoot it out
bounced to the nearest gas station
hopped in the closest motherf-cking cab waiting
saw an opportunity and had to take it
only thing on my mind now is retaliation
plantation

[outro: sample]
“get on, white folk. this here’s the plantation sure enough, but miss golly? she ain’t up yet!”
“now look who here! they done set us off, talking whities!”
“honkies with their wrinkly white -sses…”

- fashawn

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