from the winter home upon the hill the summer shade a caving in the psychotronic talking box the mainstream ninety-two percent the laughing dying culture
were white But when you're talking skin tone, let's not fuck around Cause no one's really black or white, we're all just shades of brown Black hearted
angels Suffer over the stench of the twenty first century Nothing is black or white Or devoid of industry The face of monotony, the litany of popular culture
have been told That women hold mysteries men cannot know But boys learn true secrecy, how to hide lies In cracks in their souls and behind shaded eyes
] Mamma was a lullaby, Daddy was a melting pot Angel in my father's eyes, only 'cause it helps him rot Freedom screams through a sky, wounded by a culture
I don't know what I thought in a dream when you belly dance In the mist of Arabia Under the shade of a roof I'm thinking about our common ground Dance
Please raise your child to day The way that you were born to play Way that we all disappear Allowing us to shade our fears Pain, your every stamp When
Can I do that myself? Make up my own mind like anyone else Forget me, forget me not, remember me like acid drops Different colors, different style Different cultures
river is black, blue and green The young are young, the old are old There are no shades of gray in between There are no shades of gray in between No shades
blue and green The young are young and the old are old And there are no shades of gray in between There are no shades of gray in between There are no shades
The cold funk has you sunk feel the mids pump Blessed are those who erupt when we turn up Right now we corrupt, cons the shades we don in the neon night
The cold funk has you sunk feel the mids pump Blessed are those who erupt when we turn up Right now we corrupt Cons the shades we don in the neon night
False, Fake, You're fucking 2faced Fake motherfuckers try to fade me So you think you have it made in the shade 'cause now you're getting paid yeah now
failure so I never became it Light-skinned, showed them lead, curly-headed Called me names, I was different, I was gifted, they made me ashamed Found out that I'm a different shade
t a hit. Maybe I'm approaching it wrong. Look at him, a musician, a natural musician. This Motorcity was a serious little boy. Liked to pull down the shades
art We've gotta pick our shades and choose our pigments That's bulletin Britain rallying round its colour chart We need our borders, our specifics We've got each culture
be a sound souljah On tracks compact, bolder abstract flava Drift like the mist holdin' a black fist with right shoulder Addition to the culture went
me not Make up my own mind like anyone else Remember me like acid drops These different colours, different style Prejudice prods through a big picket fence Different cultures
