Professor X:
Freedom or death, we shall all be moved. Vanglorious! This is
protected by the red, the black, and the green, with a key,
sissssiiiiieeeeeeeees!
Huh!
Brother J:
Abracadabra,
Allah baby, professor,
All hail Funkin` Lesson,
Sweet tongue, grand writer of scrolls,
Now behold, let the legend unfold,
Born unto cosmos, for no timin`,
Space to exist, vibe in the midst of the chaos,
Mourners label me as illogical, mythological,
They couldn`t comprehend when I brought the word,
A stick called verb, a black steel nerve,
Teachin` those actors and actresses,
Who write a couple of lines on what black is, really?
Then they label me a sin,
Cause a brother just speaks from within,
I guess I`m darker than the shadow of the darkest alley, that they always
scared to go in,
Boo!
I wear boots and beads, bags and braids, stick and scrolls, rings and
shades,
Walk in the light of the moon, but I`ve never been a Batman,
African call it Blackman,
Brother extracts your African steps in your movements, enhance for
improvements,
Grand funk, a new home for the phrase,
Funkin` Lesson the pathways,
Ready or not here we come, get in down on the one which we believe in.
One nation under a groove; can I get it on my good foot, get gone now!
Huh! 4x
Verse 2:
Let me tell you about blackness,
Grits and cornbread how can you act this?
I exist on a plane, where the jar is my brain, I`m livin` to retrieve
cells,
Antenae my stick, picture bigger, made of liquor, figure,
The pull of the trigger goes zoom not boom,
Not a bunch of sissies, but saviors braver,
The red, black, and green,
It`s just so much more than red, black, and green,
You ask what I mean, but yet the sundial shades on lights and dreams,
Watch too late, oops, upside your head!
You drop through abyss like lead,
Where you goin`, what`s your speed, what`s your pleasure, what`s your
need,
Trees to branches, roots to seeds, forwards, backwards many
degrees,
Questions answers, what`s the sum?
We have come,
Professor X:
Out of the darkness in panther skins comes doctors. Bearing the remedy
of your existence. Yes, it gets blacker, with a Nat Turner lick. Martin,
Adam, Malcolm, Huey, there`s a party at the crossroads!
Verse 3:
I returned from the stone crib,
Bringing verbal milk, a stool, and a bib,
Be filled of the black sap, from the tri-womb,
It flows fully un-attuned,
Wheat bread, tastey jam, come take a stroke to the rhythm of the grand-
Verbalizer comin` from the temple of void,
Crown from a hat, man from a boy,
Onward ride as I talk of Rah, converse with Horace, create with Ptah,
Arrive to Geb, to roar with Bast, Aton Tamu as I ride the raft,
Roof of the world I sit, crosslegged, right over left,
Drums of dance to drums of war,
Who knows the score? Speak no more,
Who watches down with the eyes of black?
To the east blackwards, sissssiiiiieeeees!
