Pharoahe Monch Lyrics

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Black Hand Side Lyrics

feat. Styles P & Phonte

from W.A.R. (We Are Renegades)

"Black Hand Side" is track #6 on the album W.A.R. (We Are Renegades). It was written by Jamerson, Troy Donald / West, Dave.
"Black Hand Side" is track #6 on the album W.A.R. (We Are Renegades). It was written by Jamerson, Troy Donald / West, Dave.

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Open the door let me in
Teach us all, preach us in,
Turn the cheek, let it slide
Give me five on the black hand slide
Give me five on the black hand side
Tell you what I see through the black man's eyes
Look like shit in a Cadillac a black man rise
But every different day a different black man dies
Shorty momma tripping' off a crack man high
Now he watching TV, loving the bad guy
(You know) pit bull watching the welfare check
You know he African, cause he ain't getting healthier yet
Now he put down his knapsack, got a crack pack
You don't know if it's there if your vision ain't abstract
We in the projects, a lot of us lab rats
Voted for Obama, hoping he wouldn't have that
Now I can tell you that I felt
Hell, I still remember how a cell smell
Still remember how the pigs at
Family crying up on the VI, I couldn't have that
Open the door, and teach us all
Pass the blunt around hope that it reach us all
Now give me five on the black hand side
Ghost of Pharoahe Monch watch the black man rise
Pharaohs and Navajo chiefs, the way you making it rain
But never for a stripper with emotional pain
You wouldn't despite system nourishment for the brain
Cause brain, seed, plus soil equals fruits and grains
My hood talking nigga keep it simple and plain
To let me explain the game break it down and cutting the levels like Tetris
This youngest killer gone blood for a necklace
Leave slumped over the wheel of you're Lexus
Smoke kush, wake up, and eat breakfast
What the fuck you expect?
A generation overly obsessed with mobsters
I revolutionary swarm Grammys and Oscars
Imposters, fake oras and weak shakas
Making a mockery of the music to be Pop stars
And they say I'm a saint
Cause I see the remains of the whips and the chains
In my hood were it ain't all good,
Peep the pain of a single mother she struggling
Young child slain, give me five on the black hand slide
Lets maintain like the soul train
And keep it moving together, I'm saying

Jamerson, Troy Donald / West, Dave

Published by
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., JELLYBEAN MUSIC GROUP


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