"XXX." Lyrics

America, God bless you if it's good to you
America, please take my hand
Can you help me underst—
New Kung Fu Kenny

Throw a steak off the ark
To a pool full of sharks, he'll take it
Leave him in the wilderness
With a sworn nemesis, he'll make it
Take the gratitude from him
I bet he'll show you somethin', whoa
I'll chip a nigga little bit of nothin'
I'll chip a nigga little bit of nothin'
I'll chip a nigga little bit of nothin'
I'll chip a nigga, then throw the blower in his lap
Walk myself to the court like, "Bitch, I did that!"
X-rated
Johnny don't wanna go to school no mo', no mo'
Johnny said books ain't cool no mo' (no mo')
Johnny wanna be a rapper like his big cousin
Johnny caught a body yesterday out hustlin'
God bless America, you know we all love him
Yesterday I got a call like from my dog like 101
Said they killed his only son because of insufficient funds
He was sobbin', he was mobbin', way belligerent and drunk
Talkin' out his head, philosophin' on what the Lord had done
He said: "K-Dot, can you pray for me?
It been a fucked up day for me
I know that you anointed, show me how to overcome."
He was lookin' for some closure
Hopin' I could bring him closer
To the spiritual, my spirit do know better, but I told him
"I can't sugarcoat the answer for you, this is how I feel:
If somebody kill my son, that mean somebody gettin' killed."
Tell me what you do for love, loyalty, and passion of
All the memories collected, moments you could never touch
I'll wait in front a niggas spot and watch him hit his block
I'll catch a nigga leavin' service if that's all I got
I'll chip a nigga, then throw the blower in his lap
Walk myself to the court like, "Bitch, I did that!"
Ain't no Black Power when your baby killed by a coward
I can't even keep the peace, don't you fuck with one of ours
It be murder in the street, it be bodies in the hour
Ghetto bird be on the street, paramedics on the dial
Let somebody touch my mama
Touch my sister, touch my woman
Touch my daddy, touch my niece
Touch my nephew, touch my brother
You should chip a nigga, then throw the blower in his lap
Matter fact, I'm 'bout to speak at this convention
Call you back—

Alright, kids, we're gonna talk about gun control
(Pray for me) Damn!

It's not a place
This country is to me a sound of drum and bass
You close your eyes to look around

Hail Mary, Jesus and Joseph
The great American flag
Is wrapped and dragged with explosives
Compulsive disorder, sons and daughters
Barricaded blocks and borders
Look what you taught us!
It's murder on my street, your street, back streets
Wall Street, corporate offices
Banks, employees, and bosses with
Homicidal thoughts; Donald Trump's in office
We lost Barack and promised to never doubt him again
But is America honest, or do we bask in sin?
Pass the gin, I mix it with American blood
Then bash him in, you Crippin' or you married to blood?
I'll ask again—oops—accident
It's nasty when you set us up
Then roll the dice, then bet us up
You overnight the big rifles, then tell Fox to be scared of us
Gang members or terrorists, et cetera, et cetera
America's reflections of me, that's what a mirror does

It's not a place
This country is to me a sound of drum and bass
You close your eyes to look ar—