"Amazing Grace" lyrics
(originally by The Original Sacred Harp Choir)
Once was blind but now I rhymin'
See girls like Chekhov, woods lone and kalashnikov
Banana clip, lingering cough, 007 huffing dust off
Bodega drink a molotov, killed the bottle, mazel tov
Liquor before liquor, never been sicker
Coyote trickster, archetypal nigga, the kid stays in the picture
World spinnin', double visions, two paths
Both lead to prisons, catch-twenty-two missions
They gave me the decision, the sword or the cross, how Christian
The ghosts of Ottomans have risen, shadowboxing mujahideen apparitions
Once more into the breach, you know this speech
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
It's an old story, gold, God, and glory
Huck Finn and Nigga Jim, emancipated by a cotton gin
Roam like Cain, mark on my skin, untouchable born in sin
Kin slay kin, some get born again
From a five to ten, return to tenements filled to the brim
With invisible men struggling to see across the seven seas
God deaf to our pleas, pharaoh use you as he please
Work'll set you free, the chains tight, thirty g's
Four hundred years, plantation or penitentiary
Still America's most wanted, all eyes on me
See girls like Chekhov, woods lone and kalashnikov
Banana clip, lingering cough, 007 huffing dust off
Bodega drink a molotov, killed the bottle, mazel tov
Liquor before liquor, never been sicker
Coyote trickster, archetypal nigga, the kid stays in the picture
World spinnin', double visions, two paths
Both lead to prisons, catch-twenty-two missions
They gave me the decision, the sword or the cross, how Christian
The ghosts of Ottomans have risen, shadowboxing mujahideen apparitions
Once more into the breach, you know this speech
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori
It's an old story, gold, God, and glory
Huck Finn and Nigga Jim, emancipated by a cotton gin
Roam like Cain, mark on my skin, untouchable born in sin
Kin slay kin, some get born again
From a five to ten, return to tenements filled to the brim
With invisible men struggling to see across the seven seas
God deaf to our pleas, pharaoh use you as he please
Work'll set you free, the chains tight, thirty g's
Four hundred years, plantation or penitentiary
Still America's most wanted, all eyes on me
Writer(s): "bond, F. Porter For The Happiest Africans (sesac)"
