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Black Thought - Welcome To America Lyrics

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Black Thought - Welcome To America Lyrics


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Black Thought - Welcome To America Lyrics by prayertitus: 12:29pm February 16, 2021

[Chorus: C. S. Armstrong]

Welcome to America

Where you can dream, as long as you can breathe

You can be the muh’fuckin’ President of United States

And get murdered right on these streets

Welcome to America


[Verse 1: Black Thought & C. S. Armstrong]

The sins of the father my pop gave me to suffer

The friends I would follow was crack babies and hustlers

It’s steel sharpen steel in the block, made me a cutler

My pen is from the future like Octavia Butler (Wеlcome to America, oh)

My grandmother suturеd a flag from bloody cotton

The fruits of her labor alas already rotten (Welcome to America, yeah, ayy)

My man said, “Yo, it’s crazy how fast that we’ve forgotten

That we used to pull boxes and plows like we were oxen

And cows”, without an option, and now it’s this glorious

Victorious, story only pitched

For me to shut it down, they sold some of us down the rivers

It’s such a poor level of thought, I get the shivers

It’s insidious and it’s always been hideous

I had to tread water and run, be amphibious

They do you so dirty for one, yo, what’s cleanliness?

They make you wanna let off a gun into the emptiness like


[Bridge 1: Angela Hunte & C. S. Armstrong]

Preach now, lover, preach now, lover

That we runnin’, runnin’, runnin’, runnin’, runnin’

Welcome to America


[Verse 2: Black Thought & C. S. Armstrong]

Yo, I’m ill-fated and hated, I’m hella melanated

Blackness is my religion to that I’m dedicated (Welcome to America)

I follow the laws of nature by which I’m regulated

The universe my university, I’m educated

This one is for my very revolutionaries

After keeping it a hundred even though the truth is heavy

Who stand firmly and see their life is a journey

That either God or the gurney, my public defender burned me

So did the district attorney in a turbulent trial

They told me that time is master, well I’m serving it now

Tell my family I’ll be making my return in a while

And every symbol of oppression, I’ll be burning it down

[Chorus: C. S. Armstrong & Angela Hunte]

Welcome to America (Yeah)

Where you can dream, as long as you can breathe (Long as you breathe)

You can be the muh’fuckin’ President of United States (That’s right)

And get murdered right on these streets (Doo, doo)

Welcome to America

Land of the brave (Yeah) and home of the free (That’s bullshit, man)

You can be a saint or a sinner or a billionaire (Yeah)

Or just stand on your feet

Welcome to America (Keep on runnin’, runnin’)

America, oh Lord (Keep on runnin’, runnin’)

Welcome to America (Keep on runnin’, runnin’)

America, oh yeah


[Post-Chorus: C. S. Armstrong]

‘Cause when it’s over, the world ain’t over (The world ain’t over)

What they say is what we’ll do (It’s what we gon’ do now)

We outpowered, still have power (Still got power)

And that’s what we cannot lose


[Bridge 2: Angela Hunte]

Runnin’ in the shadows, got my eye on the sparrow

Tomorrow may not come, at least my soul felt this love (Uh)

If I let you go, at least my soul felt this love

Hey now, hang now, hey now, hang now

[Verse 3: Black Thought]

Now, a Black soul never passes alone

If its blood spilled on the ancestor’s ashes and bone

From a pure heart, the Lord fashioned after His own

Went packaged and flown to the essence of his African throne

For every lost body, crossed, tarred, feathered, and tossed

It’s no way I could measure the course or ever exhaust

But whether it’s yours or mine, this American cloth

Has never been soft, while history was running its course

I ran hard from Jamestown with slaves, found Jesus

And foul demons that never be charged with malfeasance

I sat through they revival, though I never found credence

I found that we had never known shit about freedom

I’ve been charged with treason, I’ve been scarred and freezin’

I’ve been called a nigga and then called a heathen

When hounds found me, they couldn’t even tell if I was breathin’

In America where' on black men, it’s open season


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