All I Need by Neptune XXI Lyrics
INTRO
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by x4
CHORUS
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by
You're all that I need
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by
You're all that I need
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by
You're all that I need
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to by
You're...
POEM
Leave the beast's mark on my doorstep
We will rumble come dawn.
Them roots been ruffled,
feathers been ruffled,
niggas still roughed up.
Snugged up, zippers to chin.
Back pockets filled with work,
cus the grind don't sleep.
Backpacks stuffed with work,
cus the mind won't sleep.
Specially' when therе are babies cryin', their bodiеs have not adapted to the rapture but even
them baby's mommas cryin', and momma cryin' and grandma cryin', but she prays to Jesus anyway. Arms fully positioned sacrifice, keepin’ the ground warm, keepin’ them babies warm, and tables made, and dinner made, and praying anyway and maybe it's the closest thing she's heard to her ancestors tongue
Shid, maybe Jesus cryin. We done suffered much! Colored folk still crucified... still, I know they see our hands tied up, drinking bitter waters, still, wolves led the sheep and watched our people Flint, still take a baton beating in broad day light, but won't organize. ponder over what defines blackness, if not the beginning to all ends. find ourselves remembering how we got here, again,
this seems to be the aftermath of the unheard, broken homes hangin on, whispering their memories in the wind. and I'm wondering, where did all the people go, I think, they forgot their stuff.
-- whatever happened to all those black power babies. we all know black don't crack ....unless ... there be a war on drugs, unless there be drought, unless they be prisoner or exiled. Ain't we seen this before, heard it on the radio and shuffled to that blues.
Oh no! This! ain't the first time we got trapped.
But I guess there aren't enough potholes to slow this trail of tears. - can't keep them babies from crying,
won't give my father back his dignity,
won't make grandpa remember, all he sees is wars one
but it's too cold in the D not to pack heat.
Oh no... Oh no! On no...
....Then hand over the freedom!
Hand over the education. //
Hands over your mouth, yall's bets keep quiet.
Hands over fire to keep warm,
but look ...
at how fast they become night!
CHORUS /repeat/
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by x4
CHORUS
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by
You're all that I need
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by
You're all that I need
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to get by
You're all that I need
You're all that I need to get by, all that I need to by
You're...
POEM
Leave the beast's mark on my doorstep
We will rumble come dawn.
Them roots been ruffled,
feathers been ruffled,
niggas still roughed up.
Snugged up, zippers to chin.
Back pockets filled with work,
cus the grind don't sleep.
Backpacks stuffed with work,
cus the mind won't sleep.
Specially' when therе are babies cryin', their bodiеs have not adapted to the rapture but even
them baby's mommas cryin', and momma cryin' and grandma cryin', but she prays to Jesus anyway. Arms fully positioned sacrifice, keepin’ the ground warm, keepin’ them babies warm, and tables made, and dinner made, and praying anyway and maybe it's the closest thing she's heard to her ancestors tongue
Shid, maybe Jesus cryin. We done suffered much! Colored folk still crucified... still, I know they see our hands tied up, drinking bitter waters, still, wolves led the sheep and watched our people Flint, still take a baton beating in broad day light, but won't organize. ponder over what defines blackness, if not the beginning to all ends. find ourselves remembering how we got here, again,
this seems to be the aftermath of the unheard, broken homes hangin on, whispering their memories in the wind. and I'm wondering, where did all the people go, I think, they forgot their stuff.
-- whatever happened to all those black power babies. we all know black don't crack ....unless ... there be a war on drugs, unless there be drought, unless they be prisoner or exiled. Ain't we seen this before, heard it on the radio and shuffled to that blues.
Oh no! This! ain't the first time we got trapped.
But I guess there aren't enough potholes to slow this trail of tears. - can't keep them babies from crying,
won't give my father back his dignity,
won't make grandpa remember, all he sees is wars one
but it's too cold in the D not to pack heat.
Oh no... Oh no! On no...
....Then hand over the freedom!
Hand over the education. //
Hands over your mouth, yall's bets keep quiet.
Hands over fire to keep warm,
but look ...
at how fast they become night!
CHORUS /repeat/