It is the thickest blood on this planet
The feet, that slip and slide in spilled lakes of black blood
on back roads marked with rusted dead end signs
They don't fit into any shoes
Not Nike's, and not Reebok's, though they
make em across the sea and sell em to you and me
for fifty times their value *tch* none of them can hold the blood
that coagulated not so long ago, in the lower extremities
of off-color corpses, strung up from trees
Like, drying figs or, hanging poupourri, to
sweeten scenes of Southern gallantry
Before cushioned insoles and arch supports
There were feet that sank in rusted chains, and uhh
backs that cracked beneath the weight of slave names
like Jones, Smith, Johnson, Williams, or even Hilfiger
And black butts that bore marks forever from irons
that preceded those for pressing and curling naps
yanked straight, before relaxers weaves and pink lotion
[British accent]
Branding irons children, now that you've crossed the ocean right
Step up here lit-tle nigger on the auction block and open up your mouth
Right, good strong teeth, good muscle tone
You oughta pick a ton of cotton, must be worth ten dollars maybe more
See here ladies and gentlemen how much can I get for this here
barely used, top of the line...
[American accent returns]
Fast forward to Calvin Klein
and modern ownership tags for black behinds, courtesy of Ralph Lauren
A.K.A. low, low, well how low can you go?
Call on black consumers if you want the cash flow
Cause they quick to flip and spend up all they dough
and don't front money, act like you know
We give it up to the Brook-lyn malls
We give it up to the Uptown malls
Cause the white folks figure ain't no question for a nigga
that material posessions can answer
Keep us preoccupied from what we read or what we drive
while our mothers are dying of cancer
We tuck our low self esteem in Euro-trash jeans
some overpriced shit from Donna Karan
As we toast with Hennesey to covert white supremacy
Hiding the thickest blood on the planet
we wearing it under our clothes, the way God dressed our souls
but, check how the proud blood flow through 1996
Adding fuel to the flames of some bullshit brand names
cause we couldn't see past the next pair of fat kicks
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The blood that, sprays and spills in buckets
soaks and stains the nightly news, but f*ck it
A colored life still ain't worth but a few ducats
That blood can't be contained by any mind that cannot see a
great black forest for all these cracker trees
I'm talkin about Afro-Madonna, and child, and child
and child, and child, and whoops, there goes another one
And momma don't know the answer so baby gots to Guess
Oh say young blood, you wanna tell me
what George Marciano, ever did for a negro? Boricua, chicano
brothers and sisters their pockets like blood blisters
Ready to pop, ooze, and drop cash so hot and so fast
it makes a spark
"Yeah mami cause now I got my upside down triangle
My designer question mark"
OH WHY ASK WHY that shit don't make you complete
It's vanilla concealer for your chocolate heartbeat
Pumping the, thickest blood on this planet
While we take it for granted that, more Selma churches won't be bombed
More bullet riddled bodies won't be embalmed
Another cop won't, commit murder turn around and get a raise
while we pickin over the racks from white owned Doctor J's
to Modell's, Macy's, and Sach's
Shit they just think we ain't never gon' change our ways
and finally answer back:
"No suh, Ise don't want to wear yo' britches
No suh, Ise don't want to grant yo' wishes
That all us negroes.." .. shall continue to hide, in your shoes
and your clothes, as if we should take pride
in your savage traditions, in genocide
All the spirits you extinguished and never batted one blue eye
Yet your vulture's on our culture like white on brown rice
Bleach our blood and sell it back, special price
on this blood that races through the African veins of the child
on his way to the mall, in White Plains
to catch a confused, lost, land-stealing Columbus Day sale
on a Fila jogging suit, for his brother in jail
That blood, is your blood, it's my blood, it's our blood
It's the, thickest blood on this planet
Blood Video (MV)
Sarah Jones - Blood Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The feet, that slip and slide in spilled lakes of black blood
on back roads marked with rusted dead end signs
They don't fit into any shoes
Not Nike's, and not Reebok's, though they
make em across the sea and sell em to you and me
for fifty times their value *tch* none of them can hold the blood
that coagulated not so long ago, in the lower extremities
of off-color corpses, strung up from trees
Like, drying figs or, hanging poupourri, to
sweeten scenes of Southern gallantry
Before cushioned insoles and arch supports
There were feet that sank in rusted chains, and uhh
backs that cracked beneath the weight of slave names
like Jones, Smith, Johnson, Williams, or even Hilfiger
And black butts that bore marks forever from irons
that preceded those for pressing and curling naps
yanked straight, before relaxers weaves and pink lotion
[British accent]
Branding irons children, now that you've crossed the ocean right
Step up here lit-tle nigger on the auction block and open up your mouth
Right, good strong teeth, good muscle tone
You oughta pick a ton of cotton, must be worth ten dollars maybe more
See here ladies and gentlemen how much can I get for this here
barely used, top of the line...
[American accent returns]
Fast forward to Calvin Klein
and modern ownership tags for black behinds, courtesy of Ralph Lauren
A.K.A. low, low, well how low can you go?
Call on black consumers if you want the cash flow
Cause they quick to flip and spend up all they dough
and don't front money, act like you know
We give it up to the Brook-lyn malls
We give it up to the Uptown malls
Cause the white folks figure ain't no question for a nigga
that material posessions can answer
Keep us preoccupied from what we read or what we drive
while our mothers are dying of cancer
We tuck our low self esteem in Euro-trash jeans
some overpriced shit from Donna Karan
As we toast with Hennesey to covert white supremacy
Hiding the thickest blood on the planet
we wearing it under our clothes, the way God dressed our souls
but, check how the proud blood flow through 1996
Adding fuel to the flames of some bullshit brand names
cause we couldn't see past the next pair of fat kicks
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The blood that, sprays and spills in buckets
soaks and stains the nightly news, but f*ck it
A colored life still ain't worth but a few ducats
That blood can't be contained by any mind that cannot see a
great black forest for all these cracker trees
I'm talkin about Afro-Madonna, and child, and child
and child, and child, and whoops, there goes another one
And momma don't know the answer so baby gots to Guess
Oh say young blood, you wanna tell me
what George Marciano, ever did for a negro? Boricua, chicano
brothers and sisters their pockets like blood blisters
Ready to pop, ooze, and drop cash so hot and so fast
it makes a spark
"Yeah mami cause now I got my upside down triangle
My designer question mark"
OH WHY ASK WHY that shit don't make you complete
It's vanilla concealer for your chocolate heartbeat
Pumping the, thickest blood on this planet
While we take it for granted that, more Selma churches won't be bombed
More bullet riddled bodies won't be embalmed
Another cop won't, commit murder turn around and get a raise
while we pickin over the racks from white owned Doctor J's
to Modell's, Macy's, and Sach's
Shit they just think we ain't never gon' change our ways
and finally answer back:
"No suh, Ise don't want to wear yo' britches
No suh, Ise don't want to grant yo' wishes
That all us negroes.." .. shall continue to hide, in your shoes
and your clothes, as if we should take pride
in your savage traditions, in genocide
All the spirits you extinguished and never batted one blue eye
Yet your vulture's on our culture like white on brown rice
Bleach our blood and sell it back, special price
on this blood that races through the African veins of the child
on his way to the mall, in White Plains
to catch a confused, lost, land-stealing Columbus Day sale
on a Fila jogging suit, for his brother in jail
That blood, is your blood, it's my blood, it's our blood
It's the, thickest blood on this planet
The feet, that slip and slide in spilled lakes of black blood
on back roads marked with rusted dead end signs
They don't fit into any shoes
Not Nike's, and not Reebok's, though they
make em across the sea and sell em to you and me
for fifty times their value *tch* none of them can hold the blood
that coagulated not so long ago, in the lower extremities
of off-color corpses, strung up from trees
Like, drying figs or, hanging poupourri, to
sweeten scenes of Southern gallantry
Before cushioned insoles and arch supports
There were feet that sank in rusted chains, and uhh
backs that cracked beneath the weight of slave names
like Jones, Smith, Johnson, Williams, or even Hilfiger
And black butts that bore marks forever from irons
that preceded those for pressing and curling naps
yanked straight, before relaxers weaves and pink lotion
[British accent]
Branding irons children, now that you've crossed the ocean right
Step up here lit-tle nigger on the auction block and open up your mouth
Right, good strong teeth, good muscle tone
You oughta pick a ton of cotton, must be worth ten dollars maybe more
See here ladies and gentlemen how much can I get for this here
barely used, top of the line...
[American accent returns]
Fast forward to Calvin Klein
and modern ownership tags for black behinds, courtesy of Ralph Lauren
A.K.A. low, low, well how low can you go?
Call on black consumers if you want the cash flow
Cause they quick to flip and spend up all they dough
and don't front money, act like you know
We give it up to the Brook-lyn malls
We give it up to the Uptown malls
Cause the white folks figure ain't no question for a nigga
that material posessions can answer
Keep us preoccupied from what we read or what we drive
while our mothers are dying of cancer
We tuck our low self esteem in Euro-trash jeans
some overpriced shit from Donna Karan
As we toast with Hennesey to covert white supremacy
Hiding the thickest blood on the planet
we wearing it under our clothes, the way God dressed our souls
but, check how the proud blood flow through 1996
Adding fuel to the flames of some bullshit brand names
cause we couldn't see past the next pair of fat kicks
It is the thickest blood on this planet
The blood that, sprays and spills in buckets
soaks and stains the nightly news, but f*ck it
A colored life still ain't worth but a few ducats
That blood can't be contained by any mind that cannot see a
great black forest for all these cracker trees
I'm talkin about Afro-Madonna, and child, and child
and child, and child, and whoops, there goes another one
And momma don't know the answer so baby gots to Guess
Oh say young blood, you wanna tell me
what George Marciano, ever did for a negro? Boricua, chicano
brothers and sisters their pockets like blood blisters
Ready to pop, ooze, and drop cash so hot and so fast
it makes a spark
"Yeah mami cause now I got my upside down triangle
My designer question mark"
OH WHY ASK WHY that shit don't make you complete
It's vanilla concealer for your chocolate heartbeat
Pumping the, thickest blood on this planet
While we take it for granted that, more Selma churches won't be bombed
More bullet riddled bodies won't be embalmed
Another cop won't, commit murder turn around and get a raise
while we pickin over the racks from white owned Doctor J's
to Modell's, Macy's, and Sach's
Shit they just think we ain't never gon' change our ways
and finally answer back:
"No suh, Ise don't want to wear yo' britches
No suh, Ise don't want to grant yo' wishes
That all us negroes.." .. shall continue to hide, in your shoes
and your clothes, as if we should take pride
in your savage traditions, in genocide
All the spirits you extinguished and never batted one blue eye
Yet your vulture's on our culture like white on brown rice
Bleach our blood and sell it back, special price
on this blood that races through the African veins of the child
on his way to the mall, in White Plains
to catch a confused, lost, land-stealing Columbus Day sale
on a Fila jogging suit, for his brother in jail
That blood, is your blood, it's my blood, it's our blood
It's the, thickest blood on this planet