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letra de black bastards! - kmd

– this alb-m was only released promotionally (bootlegs do exist though)
“i ain’t black, i ain’t white!” (repeat 12x)
well i’ll be a aids sleazer, if i had skeezer
after skeezer stacked up like ice cubes in my freezer
i’d rather live to be an old geezer
o.e. squeezer
any times i need a stress easer
like ebeneezer scrooge i’m rude
, my batting average is huge
making street kids like
quaker with the goods
for as a monkey spits, i never gots the sh-ts
some rappers is faking, they silicon t-ts with plastic nipples
p-ss the ripple, or anything sippable
except for plum juice, the plums is sure grippable
slip and slide, the next thing they say is we’re with pit
who’s to flip? who’s the b-tch to get f-cked by a clip?
ask tyson, he knows about a ho is rotten juice
want fifteen cent, and
burning like a loose
i take it to the grudge match, and she made my budget budge
kick her in her sn-tch, and drown her in some fudge
i judge trees by the fruits and the deepness of the roots
hard pack, and rats, chewing fruits of the roots
some are coming b-ms, some zoot suit apparel
either way to wreck shop, lock, stock, and barrel
shirts i get? some dump especially when i hump
get dough by the lump sum then hop, skip and jump
sip wine in the dump, rowdy ways of any state
when i roll, bounce, rock, skate
life will concentrate, concentration
location’s strong island, where skins is on strike like penn station
if you don’t believe me, kid come, i’ll show you
where lurks the black b-st-rds who act like they know you
they say ‘what up black?” i say “what up?” i’m thinkin’ you black
has to be hard they way they master how to act black
give my monkey slack, a funky track, still wack, you’re black
you suck your teeth like it’s your back
ayo, yo b-m raga a la
you ain’t nothing but a d-mn black b-st-rd, man
your mama was a b-st-rd, and your daddy, too
yo black, yo black, i’m back ransacking through the stacks
of maniacial thoughts i brought to distort the black
of mistakes of somthing, so zev says “keep ’em slum”
styles to delf, rum is on my right
of black b-st-rds and b-tches, which reminds me, i left them out
two on my list of sh-t i don’t give a f-ck about
smokes an artist and a butcher wears a smock
like a butcher i gots beef with a looptie for my c-ck
call me a carpenter from how a brick my lumber got
some now they try yard and black b-mba clot
it was a lover’s birthday party, a block from the spot
on stage i heard some off-beat “lick shots, lick shots!”
well godd-mn, guess who, looking b-tchy as h-ll
parker lewis, well well, i brings an l
i gave a “beep beep” look, he acted like he couldn’t tell
i guess that was the sucker in him, ready set to swell
the door said it was insane, the price to maintain
but d-mn it has to be hard the way they master how to act like
or off the funky track to rock the house that can bang
as we sat with curiosity and sipped champagne
see i became undergorund like the life in the street
the love of the beat, large is the fleet
that will remain underground for all my boys who souls sleep
six feet deeper than the soles of my feet
it’s like that, never the wack, and actual fact
it’s like this, sweet as a kiss, as if you got the knack
i’ve thought i’ve seen the worst with the pimps and the macks
the blacks in skull caps, suckers keep popping that
“i ain’t black, i ain’t white!” (repeat 12x)

- kmd

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