
Is Your God a Dog Public Enemy
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Is Your God a Dog" от Public Enemy. 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.

[Verse 1]
Crosstown traffic, black to black, you shoulda seen her
Long and winding road to the arena
Crystal ball, I prophesized
What was on the horizon, forewarned y'all
Is it any wonder what kind of ground you goin' under
A September ender to March Madness, remember?
You never heard a murder, take it for example
Unsolved mystery, life lost in a funk sample
Enter the bandwagon, braggin' hangin' banners
Clearin' the way for younger MC's and new hammers
What was criticized six years back is now back
In New York on the jersey, front and back
Feels like Tiger Woods got mad goods
Way up from the cheap seats comin' outta the hood
Race to the black seats amongst the wack seats
Be the hardcore alongside the deadbeats
The world lookin' on like spectators
At crucified gladiators and playa-hating alligators
Feels like a jungle inside where fish swim and birds fly
A man got a tendency to die
Man falls to the hands of man
But damn if I ever try to survive up at courtside
Four tickets to fly, rap or play ball
Do the game or duck that drive by
(Duck that down, G!)
Crosstown traffic, black to black, you shoulda seen her
Long and winding road to the arena
Crystal ball, I prophesized
What was on the horizon, forewarned y'all
Is it any wonder what kind of ground you goin' under
A September ender to March Madness, remember?
You never heard a murder, take it for example
Unsolved mystery, life lost in a funk sample
Enter the bandwagon, braggin' hangin' banners
Clearin' the way for younger MC's and new hammers
What was criticized six years back is now back
In New York on the jersey, front and back
Feels like Tiger Woods got mad goods
Way up from the cheap seats comin' outta the hood
Race to the black seats amongst the wack seats
Be the hardcore alongside the deadbeats
The world lookin' on like spectators
At crucified gladiators and playa-hating alligators
Feels like a jungle inside where fish swim and birds fly
A man got a tendency to die
Man falls to the hands of man
But damn if I ever try to survive up at courtside
Four tickets to fly, rap or play ball
Do the game or duck that drive by
(Duck that down, G!)
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