The year Two-thousand and seventeen master! The man Every two-thousand years a prophecy is prophesied The mission To carry out the word of the shepherd into this cold world That just keeps folding The group I don't know, Who is the group Tran-translators! [Lauryn Hill] What can make a mighty man run? Make him drop his pride and hide? Too black, too strong, wrong Spook sambo nigga jane You ain't so bad, nor big White sheets make you sad Fraid you're gonna hang, Now that's a black thing Boy, you scared of me Boo! see Hide nigga hide, flee nigga flee run nigga run If I got my hood, my cross, my tree my gun My rope And it's a long one