Last Poets

True blues aint no new news about who's been abused
For the blues is as old as my stolen soul
I sang the blues when the missionaries came
Passing out bibles in Jesus' name
I sang the blues in the hull of the ship
Beneath the sting of the slavemaster's whip
I sang the blues when the ship anchored the dark
My family being sold on a slave block
I sang the blues being torn from my first born
And hung my head and cried when my wife took his life
And then committed suicide.
I sang the blues on the slavemaster's plantation helping
Him build his free nation
I sang the blues in the cottonfield, hustlin' to make the daily yield
I sang the blues when he forced my woman to beg
Lord knows how i wish he was dead
I sang the blues on the run, ducking the dogs and dodging the gun
I sang the blues hanging from the tree in a desperate attempt to break free
I sang the blues when the sun went down, cursing the master when he wasn't around
I sang the blues in all these wars dying for some unknown cause
I sang the blues in a high tone, low moan, loud groan, soft grunt, hard funk
I sang the blues in land sea and air, about who when why and where
I sang the blues in church on sunday, slaving on monday, misused on tuesday, abused on wednesday, accused on thursday, fried alive on friday, and died on saturday.
Sho nuff singing the blues
I sang the blues in the summer, fall winter and spring
I know sho nuff the blues is my thing
I sang the backwater blues, rhythm and blues, gospel blues, saint louis blues, crosstown blues, chicago blues, mississippi GODDAMN blues, the watts blues, the harlem blues, hoe blues, gut-bucket blues, funky chunky blues, i sang the up north cigarette corp blues, the down south sprung out the side of my mouth blues,
I sang the blues black, i sang the blues blacker, i sang the blues blackest
I SANG BOUT MY SHO NUFF BLUE BLACKNESS!

Verse 1:(Common)
Memories on corners with the fo's and the mo's
Walk to the store for the rose, talking straightforward to hoes
Got uncles that smoke, and some put blow up they nose
To cope with the lows, the wind is cold and it blows
In they socks and they soles, niggaz holdin' they rolls
Corners leave souls opened and closed, hopin' for mo'
We know where to go, niggaz rollin' in droves
They shoot the wrong way, cuz they ain't know and they goes
The streets ain't safe cuz they ain't knowing the code
By the foes I was told, either focus or fold
Got cousins with flows, hope they open some doors
So we can cop clothes and roll in a Rolls
Now I roll in a Olds, with windows that don't roll
Down the roads where cars get broken and stole
These are the stories told by Stony and Cottage Grove
The world is cold, the block is hot as a stove
On the corners

Hook:
(Kanye West)
I wish I could give you this feelin'
I wish I could give this feelin'
On the corners niggaz rob or kill
And dyin' just to make a livin', huh?

(Spoken: The Last Poets)
We overstated, we underrated, we educated
The corner was our time when time stood still and
Gators and snakeskins and
Yellow and pink and
Powder blue profiles glorifying them

Verse 2: (Common)
Street lights and deep nights, cats tryin' to eat right
Ridin' no-seat-bikes, with work to feed hypes
So they can get sweet Nike's, they head and they feet right
Desires of street life, cars and weed types
Its hard to breathe nights, days are thief-like
The beasts roam the streets, the police is Greek-like
Game that is deep, we speak and believe hype
Banged in the streets has cop left for deep life (?)
Its steep life, coming up where niggaz is sheep-like
Rappers and hoopers, we strive to be like
G's with three strikes, seeds that need light
Cheese and recite, needs and BE strife
The corner, where struggle and greed fight
We write songs about wrong cuz its hard to see right
Look to the sky, hoping it will bleed light
Reality's a bitch, and I heard that she bites
The corner

Hook:
(Kanye West)
I wish I could give you this feelin'
I wish I could give this feelin'
On the corners niggaz rob or kill
And dyin' just to make a livin', huh?

(Spoken: The Last Poets)
The corner was our magic, our music, our politics
Fires raised as tribal dances and war cries
Broke out on different corners
Power to the people
Black power
Black is beautiful

Verse 3: (Common)
Black church services, murderers, Arabs serving burgers
As cats with gold permanents, move they bags as herbalists
The dirt isn't just fertile, its people workin' and earnin' this
The curb getters go where the cats flow and the current is
Its so hot that niggaz burn to live
The furnace is, whether money movin', the determined live
We talk shit, play lotto, and buy German beers
Its so black packed with action that's affirmative
The corners

Hook:
(Kanye West)
I wish I could give you this feelin'
I wish I could give this feelin'
On the corners niggaz rob or kill
And dyin' just to make a livin', huh?

(Spoken: The Last Poets)
The corner was our Rock of Gibraltar, our Stonehenge
Our Taj Mahal, our monument
Our testimonial to freedom, to peace, and to love
Down on the corner