Organized Konfusion - Black Sunday lyrics
[Organized Konfusion - Black Sunday lyrics]
Lord, help me out now we gotta get together
We gotta organize no matter the weather
It's a Black Sunday, hey
I used to watch my grandmother catch
The Holy Ghost in church
For her soul she would search
Five years later now I'm off to work
In a department store
I'm foldin pants and shirts
At the end of the week, lord
Just enough loot to put some
Cheap sneakers on my feet
That's when I made a promise
To my momma I said
"I betcha you see me at the
Apollo one day and I'ma
Be kickin that fat funk shit
Black, mackadocious - speakers in
The back trunk shit"
Cause the boss is bossing me
That's costing me
To miss classes and I feel he's forcing me
To be a jackass in the future then
Who's gonna shoot ya?
At this point in my life is
Where I chose to write rhymes
Instead of doing crimes
Nineteen eighty-six to nineteen eighty-nine
Organized Konfusion, did not, get, signed
But we will soon one day, until then
I return at twelve noon on the track
Black Sunday
Lord, help me out now we gotta get together
We gotta organize no matter the weather
It's a Black Sunday, hey
Yeah, remember losing a loved one
Lawwwd help us to make it over
Delete the pork
The cigarettes and forty-nine cent soda
We came a long way and I'm
Still runnin for my freedom
Still have one hundred miles to go
Escape from the
Crack vials, so, you can feed that baby
I used to ride the elevator
With the crazy lady a year later I made demo
Cassettes with the Monch
My stick was on the fader
Rhymes ran out quick so I
Encouraged Monch to start writing rhymes
And Mrs j cooked dinner then we
Came into same hard times
Sour contract shouldn't have been
On the plate two apes escaped
Back to LA with our demo tape
The state of mind I was in
Since Paul C died is that i gotta get mines
Representin 40 projects so I'm
All-in, gotta make papes and all that
Close my own record deal cause
I can't fall for that
Old snake shit, hissin' in the grass
For the cash, little cents, intuition listen
If you're missin' my money
My fist you will be kissin'
Damn, I don't even understand
Lord, help me out now we gotta get together
We gotta organize no matter the weather
It's a Black Sunday, hey
Check it out
Like to say what's up to my whole herd
Like to say rest in peace to my man
And rest in peace to my man Juice
Three strikes
We gotta organize no matter the weather
It's a Black Sunday, hey
I used to watch my grandmother catch
The Holy Ghost in church
For her soul she would search
Five years later now I'm off to work
In a department store
I'm foldin pants and shirts
At the end of the week, lord
Just enough loot to put some
Cheap sneakers on my feet
That's when I made a promise
To my momma I said
"I betcha you see me at the
Apollo one day and I'ma
Be kickin that fat funk shit
Black, mackadocious - speakers in
The back trunk shit"
Cause the boss is bossing me
That's costing me
To miss classes and I feel he's forcing me
To be a jackass in the future then
Who's gonna shoot ya?
At this point in my life is
Where I chose to write rhymes
Instead of doing crimes
Nineteen eighty-six to nineteen eighty-nine
Organized Konfusion, did not, get, signed
But we will soon one day, until then
I return at twelve noon on the track
Black Sunday
Lord, help me out now we gotta get together
We gotta organize no matter the weather
It's a Black Sunday, hey
Yeah, remember losing a loved one
Lawwwd help us to make it over
Delete the pork
The cigarettes and forty-nine cent soda
We came a long way and I'm
Still runnin for my freedom
Still have one hundred miles to go
Escape from the
Crack vials, so, you can feed that baby
I used to ride the elevator
With the crazy lady a year later I made demo
Cassettes with the Monch
My stick was on the fader
Rhymes ran out quick so I
Encouraged Monch to start writing rhymes
And Mrs j cooked dinner then we
Came into same hard times
Sour contract shouldn't have been
On the plate two apes escaped
Back to LA with our demo tape
The state of mind I was in
Since Paul C died is that i gotta get mines
Representin 40 projects so I'm
All-in, gotta make papes and all that
Close my own record deal cause
I can't fall for that
Old snake shit, hissin' in the grass
For the cash, little cents, intuition listen
If you're missin' my money
My fist you will be kissin'
Damn, I don't even understand
Lord, help me out now we gotta get together
We gotta organize no matter the weather
It's a Black Sunday, hey
Check it out
Like to say what's up to my whole herd
Like to say rest in peace to my man
And rest in peace to my man Juice
Three strikes