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