Rudy Ray Moore — Sonnet To My Idol

[Verse 1] Someone said you have talent But you are abusing it I say, what good is talent If you're not using it? I'll just express myself In my soul sort of way Hoping you sophisticated motherfuckers Hear what I have to say [Verse 2] Soul is not something you have It's something you be It's all over your body and face For everyone to see So if you are soul You don't have to ask me [Verse 3] Take a poor black man He'll put his ass on a shelf He just a poor black man And nobody else He'll tell you exactly how he feel And don't hold a fucking thing back Right down shitty And that's his act He won't hold a grudge For days and days He'll just call you a low-life motherfucker And talk about your funky ways Or he'll cut you off your ass And if that won't do He'll check out your mammy, your pappy, Your brother, and your sister too Now when this black man gets mad I'll tell you no lie Believe me This black man, he ready to die He'll fuck up you and yours And anything that gets in his way And don't give a damn What no son of a bitch has to say Shit on the birthday cake Piss in the punch He ready to fight you motherfuckers One by one all in a bunch Shit He won't run Be ready for his ass To even up the fun Go to the courthouse And if that won't do Fuck with the judge And jury too Do his time Like a natural man Come back and join society As best he can Accept your leadings Cause that's all you'll give Tell her you "let me live, baby Let me live"


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