(wyclef responding to an overlord voice)
Two-thousand and seventeen master!
Every two-thousand years a prophecy is prophesized
To carry out the word of the shephard into this cold world
That just keeps folding
I don’t know...
Who is the group
What can make a mighty man run?
Make him drop his pride and hide?
Too black, too strong... wrong
Spook sambo nigga jane
You ain’t so bad, nor big
White sheets make you sad
Fraid you’re gonna hang, ahhh
Now that’s a black thang
Boy, you scared of me
Hide nigga hide, flee nigga flee run nigga run
If I got my hood, my cross, my tree my gun
And it’s a long one
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