More love.. Sizzla Kalonji, Gentleman teaching it from the start. Love is the foundation. No segregation! One love.. to them, my son. Anyway, common
take more than some Young Gunz to hurt me. I put your mama on a stroller bitch aint but thirty????? Y'all just got mustaches how you gunna burn me? Two
the salt of the earth Say a prayer for the common foot soldier Spare a thought for his back breaking work Say a prayer for his wife and his children Who burn
for to be made For such a guest is meet What kind of thing is more common ? What think you on't ? I'm as the indifferent children of the earth As my
sorrow. * Suffer little children to come unto me. Suffer little children to come unto me. Suffer little children to come unto me. Suffer little children
roll of the drums Dark! Dark! All the people work Yet there is no pay No pay -- low pay All the people work Yet the children hunger on, Pablo Hear
(feat. J Dilla, Nas, Marsha Ambrosius, Hi-Tek, Common,...) [NEXT MESSAGE] [Message #1: J Dilla] Yo, I don't know where to start Uh, check it out, music
I don't know no snitches I roll with real niggaz 'til they fall off Gotta pick them up 'fore they lose they briches And I feel my children love me Daddy
mysteries around her like a veil nothin' but her prison was profane All we had in common was our chains Oh burn it down boys burn it to the ground boys burn
It's not what they anticipate But, fuck, it doesn't matter. Put your fists up and instigate And they can't save the planet Or the children of the bandits
speak a secret 'bout the world spins yet nobody's pledged allegiance and why? His beaming smile knew a private agony that burns And when the children
't wanna build our house of earth, water and stone But of wisdom, pure intentions, conversation Compassionate action, with purity of heart We might get somewhere, become light Fast and burn
salt of the earth Say a prayer for the common foot soldier Spare a thought for his back breaking work Say a prayer for his wife and his children Who burn
take more than some Young Guns to hurt me. I put yo mama on the stroller, bitch aint but 30. Ya'll just got mustaches, how you gon burn me. 2 young gay
more than some Young Guns to hurt me. I put yo mama on the stroller, bitch ain't but 30. Ya'll just got mustaches, how you gon burn me. 2 young gay versions
, a dish plentiful of playful sin. A spot in the shade, and a glass of lemonade, that tastes better when it's stolen. I have nothing in common with the common
women and children on the constant attack For no reason Till the next season And we still bleeding Yo it's freezing And men burn in hell, some for
women and children on the constant attack For no reason Till the next season And we still bleeding Yo it's freezing And men burn in hell, some