Текст песни I Rather Be Wrong (MF Grimm) с переводом

Few

Bullets hit the floor while flying through the air

Billie Jean light up concrete, some die there

Military weapons against stones not fair

Gunshots in the street, whole block scared

Niggas tell you they love you right before they shoot you

Hug your momma, cry at your funeral

It’s terrible, sinful. Life here is pitiful

God has a dark sense of humor, divine comedy

Joke’s on you, punchline is tragedy

It’s not what he say, it’s how he deliver it

Louis Armstrong gassed me, said it was «Wonderful»

Bush lit the match, showed souls are flammable

Push me? Don’t. I’m close to the edge

War, I keep falling, but I’m laying on floor

So deep, drowning but I’m not in water

In Hell, inferno, inhale, breathe fire

In Heaven internally, exhale, leave Lucifer

Fail my objective, can never be President

Although I have all the criminal qualifications

So, no, I guess I’m just like Colin Powell

Lack of real power and blood on the conscience

Some Caucasians see black as being contagious

Their children love us and now act as strangers

Wish they could go back to days when they hang us

Man, them days they hung us is still among us

We got fake revolutionaries trying to mislead us

Won’t bust their guns. In the head, they just beat us

Fight their own kind instead of ones who mistreat us

Mechanicals for revolution, Che Guevara never got ‘em

He couldn’t be bought by the demons who shot him

So don’t give me that «Power to the People» shit unless you’re

About this shit. Too many niggas died for it

Old-timers known how to spot who’s legit

Real bankers are pros and know who’s counterfeit

Duo Live, «Free Lunch,» that’s who I’ll roll with

We’re out here exposing hoes and foes the way we should

Living good, not giving back to the hood

Shit changed. The Klan’s black, wearing hoods

Prove me wrong? I wish brothers would

In this song ‘cause I rather be wrong

«Situation is life or death» — Sample from MF Grimm on MF Grimm ft.

Kool G Rap, Akinyele, and Big Chuck — «Stay Strapped (AKA AIDS)» (x2)

I learned

The worse devil in the world’s a black one

They’ll speak your language, talking slang, son

If detected, here’s come another one

Where these niggas coming from? Bred with self-hatred

Eating master’s scraps, feeling that they made it

Black churches and buses firebombed and raided

Program American Hunger, so they ate it

Cook grams, iron chef, ghetto gourmet

Slow jams. While get, high forget problems

No man’s an island, but each one’s a monster

Shit ain’t never gonna change, we can’t solve them

How can a nation build when they don’t love each other?

No promised land, only misery prolonged

But in this song, I rather be wrong

«Situation is life or death» — Sample from MF Grimm on MF Grimm ft.

Kool G Rap, Akinyele, and Big Chuck — «Stay Strapped (AKA AIDS)»

Armstrong

Williams endorsed Bush to kill millions

Your skin is black, but, for you, I have no feelings

Your fouls are flagrant, you secret agent

I speak for a tribe still alive but lost

Your ancestors will haunt you ‘til you see the light

Condoleezza Rice, how you sleep at night?

I guess the Devil tucked you in real tight. Take a

Look in a mirror, bitch, you are not white

What do they have on you? Something ain’t right

The vow taken by the President at the inauguration:

Never let this become a nigga nation

But they’re like roaches, Plan B: space station

Just in case they get the heart, choose to fight

And want a war, can’t take it no more

Make these niggas literally reach for the stars

Throwing rocks will never reach Mars—can't touch this

Kill ‘em off, see who survives the sequel

It’s un-American, niggas will never be equal

Fuck them jiggaboos, they’re not even people

It’s not a myth—they're only three-fifths

Abe, that nigga lover, what was on his mind?

Probably had nigga in him, knew he was they kind

Now a nigga for life, that’s why pennies don’t shine

Show nonbelievers matters controlled by the brain

Grimm’s David Blaine, for the world, display pain

All those multiple contusions and bruising illusions

Magna Carta, OG Constitution

Twelve-Fifteen, master plan for prostitution

The king is a pimp wearing jewels to executions

Father against son, that was the revolution

We didn’t matter, so please don’t be flattered

Africa was shattered, our blood was splattered

I’ve died before, so I don’t fear

Took two thousand years for a nigga to reappear

Gotta kill me ‘cause I’m powerful, I know the deal

Memorize lines, go along with the script

Will my execution make my people flip?

Will disciples be trife and slip? Please

Come together, all Bloods and Crips, make purple

Save your people

They’re counting on you to kill yourselves. It’s time for us to make a change.

I rather be wrong. We’re now hanging ourselves. There’s no excuse no more.

We gotta come together, we gotta get shit right. Shit is too fucked up.

It’s been fucked up for a long time, man. It’s beyond color though.

We just need to get our heads together. People don’t realize what this world

is for, man, this ain’t what… Shit ain’t for us to sit out here,

fucking fighting each other. Motherfuckers, think, man, think. Life is too

short for this shit. Running around in circles, man, like rats in a maze