Traduction: Kids Gospel. Ne pas parler de moi.
ain't no gangsta dude Ain't got a poppin banga But you know I'm powerful when I'm pissin off the gospel singas I'm tryin to feed my kids Y'all niggas
Noble of the Outlawz) Intro: 2Pac Black Cotton Black Cotton Black Cotton- A symbol for unrewarded struggle Time for a little gospel tail Ghetto gospel
eat a motherfuckin' dick Chew on a prick, and lick a million motherfuckin' cocks per second I'd rather put out a motherfucking gospel record I'd rather
[Intro: 2Pac] Black Cotton Black Cotton Black Cotton - A symbol for unrewarded struggle Time for a little gospel tail Ghetto gospel that is- listen Robbin
yo [Olu Dara singing] Greatest man alive (Nas: Yeah, turn it up!) Gre-Gre-Gre-Gre-Greatest man alive! [Verse 2: Nas] The blues came from gospel, gospel
(With the perfect hair and the perfect wife and the perfect kids and the perfect life i can finally be somebody ...) let's play born-again american,
(With the perfect hair And the perfect wife And the perfect kids And the perfect life I will finally be somebody...) (Let's play born-again American,
rhyme javelin somethin' mind unravelin' get down Return of the gangsta thanks ta' them niggas who got them kids who got enough to buy an ounce but not enough to bounce them kids
Hey baby I wanna know How much Did you get for your soul? You had the gospel When you were shackled to a tree Now you've got your freedom You sing for
of the unseen hand that hold juggle In a Game of Life, yo it's hard to roll a double Tryin times, take lives and separate couples Kids thinkin they grown
a man you would hate and despise I'd rave and I'd rant and I'd scream and yell And I'd chase my neighbors from here to hell If I hadn't heard those kids
, eat a motherfuckin' dick Chew on a prick, and lick a million motherfuckin' cocks for second I'd rather put out a motherfucking gospel record I'd rather
[Intro: 2Pac] Black Cotton Black Cotton Black Cotton - A symbol for unrewarded struggle Time for a little gospel tail Ghetto gospel that is- listen Rotten
make a offer To black kids wishin they white kids, when they close they eyelids Like, "I bet they neighborhood ain't like this" White kids wishin they black kids
To black kids wishin? they white kids when they close they eyelids Like ?I bet they neighborhood ain?t like this? White kids wishin? they black kids,
growin' up in Brooklyn My pops was a DJ, he had a bunch of records Funk, jazz, rhythm and blues, soul, you know what I'm sayin'? There was this one gospel
