
Sins Of Our Fathers The Game & Marsha Ambrosius
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Sins Of Our Fathers" от The Game & Marsha Ambrosius. Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Chorus: Marsha Ambrosius]
Sins of our fathers
Father, forgive me
And after all I gave you stole my name
And took away from me
Our founding fathers
What have you gave to me?
I've been the victim of a broken home
You stole it away from me
Sins of our fathers
Sins of our fathers
[Verse 1: The Game]
I could hit you with the "Yes massa", mo tea, sir?
Or I could close the box on your ass like cold pizza
Whips and chains, brain gone, mind in shackles
Cam Newton, a Black Panther hard to tackle
Mix the moonshine with the Snapple
The White House a plantation
But they're teachin' our kids it's a castle
Built by slaves, my guilt by trade, the maze
Lab rats pickin' cotton inside invisible cages
House nigga, he hate us more than the massa
Burn his own church and smile in the face of the pastor
The last days, drinkin' our own sweat in the field
Either kneel or you get your ass killed
Sins of our fathers
Father, forgive me
And after all I gave you stole my name
And took away from me
Our founding fathers
What have you gave to me?
I've been the victim of a broken home
You stole it away from me
Sins of our fathers
Sins of our fathers
[Verse 1: The Game]
I could hit you with the "Yes massa", mo tea, sir?
Or I could close the box on your ass like cold pizza
Whips and chains, brain gone, mind in shackles
Cam Newton, a Black Panther hard to tackle
Mix the moonshine with the Snapple
The White House a plantation
But they're teachin' our kids it's a castle
Built by slaves, my guilt by trade, the maze
Lab rats pickin' cotton inside invisible cages
House nigga, he hate us more than the massa
Burn his own church and smile in the face of the pastor
The last days, drinkin' our own sweat in the field
Either kneel or you get your ass killed
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