Runaway Sambo - Hell Razah

Run, man… hurry up, hurry up

They coming, they coming, man!

Keep going, keep going

Move, move, move, move, hurry up

Move, move… don’t stop, don’t stop

Hurry up, man… move, move, move, move

They gon' kill us, hurry up… uh

18 to 28…

They got a bounty on my head and a tag for your toe

I’m here to sing a song, til they let my people go

Real about, turn about, my chrome forty four

Everytime I pull it out, it’s fuck Jim Crow…

It’s like Moses and Pharaoh, now it’s the Big Apple

I’m just a runaway slave, these devils can’t tackle

We slippin' out of handcuffs and breaking out of shackles

I’m Nat Turner in the mind of a time capsule

We not no Buckwheats or Little Rascals

Or Diff’rent Strokes, or whatever have you (watch your mouth)

A lil' fame… a record deal don’t make your freedom

If man don’t live by bread alone, how we gonna feed him

So I choose to bring the truth about the seed of Edem

But they swift with cunning words, and they still deceive 'em

Your best rapper swinging 'yes, master', when they beat 'em

Chris Columbus came with a fungus, recognize ya’ll in strength in numbers

They went from cowboys to bounty hounters, the FBI’s hopping out of Hummers

Taking your kids and your grandmothers

Your niece and nephews, and your baby brothers

Abraham Lincoln’s and nigga lovers…

No matter how you see it

They try’nna tell me I can’t blow, cuz I ain’t tapdancing like Sambo

My pants low from that Black Market commando

I stand poor righteneous, truth and straight facts

Whoever ain’t runaway slaves’ll get snatched

Keep going… keep going…

While it’s wars in Lebanon, I write it like King David in psalms

See I was born to the horns of Sara Von

It’s Ariel Sharon, the suicide bomb

Nat Turner nightmares and chasing Uncle Toms

El Raziel, codename, be Metatron

I got 'em open like dope veins from methadon

Without a right to bare arms, I’m mentally the don

You can’t fuck with the God, he’s seven bars beyond

They love to hate it, and translate it and read it wrong

My definition is non-fiction, I rhyme different

Than your every day rap gimmick, design image

You invented a clone, a DNA digit, digit, digit

Boo!

Hurry up, hurry up, man

Hurry up, man

We gotta make it out of here, man

Who are me, when are we gonna stop it?

And on that night (we gotta stop somewhere, man)

Seven men escaped… nowhere to be traced, nowhere to be found

Go north, go north, they gon' hear us

They took the shackles off they hands

They took the chains off they feet

And they ran… and they escaped the wilderness