Texty: The Fugees. Introduction.

The year
Two thousand and seventeen, master
The man
Every two thousand years a prophecy is prophesized
The mission
To carry out the word of the shephard into this cold world
That just keeps folding
The group
I don't know
Who is the group?
Tran-Tranzlators

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, ahh
Now that's a black thang
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