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Pharoahe Monch - Black Hand Side (feat. Styles P & Phonte) (2011)

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Pharoahe Monch - Black Hand Side (feat. Styles P & Phonte) lyrics


Great Pharoahe Monch yo
Yessir, what up P
Great styles be the ghost
One two

[Chorus: Phonte]
I say open the door let me in
Teach us all, preach us in, turn the cheek, let it slide
Give me five on the black hand slide

the black hand slide, oooh
the black hand slide (x2)
oooo, the black hand slide

[Verse 1: Styles P]
Give me five on the black hand side
Tell you what I see through the black mans eyes
Look like shit in a cadillac a black man rise
But every different day a different black man dies
Shorty momma trippin' off a crack mans high
Now he watchin tv lovin tha bad guy
You know, pit bull watchin the welfair check
You know he african, cause he aint gettin healthier yet
Now he put down his knapsack, got a crack pack
You don't know if it's there if your vision aint abstract
We in the projects, a lot of us lab rats
Voted for Obama, hoping he wouldn't have that
Now I can tell you that I felt it
I still remember how a cell smell
Still remember how the pigs at
Family crying up on the? I couldn't have that
Open the door, and teach u all
Pass the blunt around hope that it reach us all
Now give me five on the black hand side
Ghost of Pharoahe Monch watch the black man rise

[Chorus: Phonte]
I say open the door let me in
Teach us all, preach us in, turn the cheek, let it slide
Give me five on the black hand slide

[Pharoahe Monch]
Pharaohs and navajo chiefs, the way you makin' it rain /
But? for a stripper with emotional pain/
You wouldn't despite system nourishment for the brain/
Cause brain, seed, plus soil equals food for the brain/
My hood talkin nigga keep it simple n plain/
To let me explain the game break it down n cutting the levels like tetris/
He shining his skill, a young blood for a necklace/
Leave slumped over the wheel of you're Lexus/
Smoke kush, wake up, and eat breakfast/
What tha fuck ya expect, a generation overly obsessed with mobsters/
I revolutionary swarm grammys and oscars, imposters/
Fake oras and weak shakas/
Makin a mockery of the music that B.I.G. Pop stars/
And they say I'm a saint/
Cause I see the remains of the whips-n-chains/
In my hood were it aint all good, /
Peep the pain of a single mother she struggling/
Young child slang, give me five on the black hand slide/
Lets maintain like the soul train/
And keep it moving together, I'm sayin/

[Chorus: Phonte]
I say open the door let me in
Teach us all, preach us in, turn the cheek, let it slide
Give me five on the black hand slide
The black hand slide


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