Black Hand Side - Pharoahe Monch, Phonte, Styles P

The great Pharoahe Monch, yo

Yes, sir, what up, P?

The great Styles P, the ghost

One, two

I say open the door and let me in

Teach us all, preach ya sins

Turn the cheek, let it slide

Give me five on the black hand side

The black hand side, oh

The black hand side, oh

The black hand side, oh

Give me five on the black hand side (Give me five, brother)

I’ll tell you what I see through the black man’s eyes (Look at me)

Fly chick, in the Cadillac, a black man ride (Ride)

But every different day, a different black man die (Damn)

Shorty momma tripping off of crack, mad high (You know)

Now he watching TV, loving the bad guy (You know)

Piss-poor with a Welfare check, he know he African (Pssss)

'Cause he ain’t get help there yet (No help)

Now he put down his knapsack, got a crack pack

You don’t overstand if your vision ain’t abstract

(You don’t overstand)

Me and the projects, a lot of us is lab rats

Voted for Obama, hoping he wouldn’t have that

(Don't have that, brother)

Now I can tell you that I felt hell (I felt it)

I still remember how a cell smell (I still remember the stench)

I still remember how the pigs act

Family crying up on the V.I., I couldn’t dig that

Open the door and teach us all

Pass a blunt around, hoping that it reach us all

Now give me five on the black hand side (Give me five, bro)

Ghost and Pharoahe Monch, watch the black man rise (Yep)

I say open the door and let me in

Teach us all, preach ya sins

Turn the cheek, let it slide

Give me five on the black hand side

The black hand side, oh (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

The black hand side (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

The black hand side, oh

Pharoahe’s a Navajo chief, the way I’m making it rain

But never for a stripper with emotional pain

You wouldn’t despite the system nourishment for the brain

'Cause rain, sea plus soil equal fruits and grains

My hood told a nigga: keep it simple and plain

So let me explain the game

Break it down a couple levels like Tetris

These young’uns kill they own blood for a necklace (Gimme that)

Leave slumped over the wheel of your Lexus

Smoke kush, wake up and eat breakfast

What the fuck he expect?

A generation overly obsessed with mobsters

Our revolutionaries won Grammys and Oscars

Impostors, fake auras or weak chakras

Makin' a mockery of the music to be pop stars

And they say I’m insane

Because I see the remains of the whips and the chains

In my hood where it ain’t all good

Peep the pain of a single mother, she struggling

Young child slain, give me five on the black hand side

Let’s maintain like it’s Soul Train

And keep it movin' together, I’m saying

I say open the door and let me in

Teach us all, preach ya sins

Turn the cheek, let it slide

Give me five on the black hand side

The black hand side, oh (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

The black hand side (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

The black hand side, oh

Yeah, (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

Styles P (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

Uh-huh, Pharoahe Monch (Give me five, bruh, give me five)

Yeah, uh-huh (Give me five, bruh, give me five)