1900
1
U don’t like the music, U don’t like the room,
U like the white girl, she likes the view,
Crackers are slow to react to war,
As they want the drain of PPL to fear,
Gangs are crazy promoters of sores,
A home turf that is so dear,
Funny isn’t it, they never get the king,
America is built on society’s fear,
And fear is the able brim that’s here,
Weird takes on the losing records,
The south has plenty of that,
The north isolates the eerie book,
While the south tells on the cat,
Terrorist, such a broad distant across seas,
The attitude of America in it’s country,
Many places for the innocent to go,
But still a brave field of something U owe,
How can U allow the weaks to be shook,
It happens all the time,
Life depends on how U look,
The attitude alone on your darkest side.
