Terrace Martin, Leon Bridges and D Smoke - Sick Of Cryin'

Unrest in the city, war in the city
Pain in the city, blood on the ground
But Yahweh's watchin on high
So if the wall breaks don't trip
You shoulda seen it coming from a million mile
Poison from your lips
Fed up with the days of just letting it slide
Don't hit me with the steel
'Cause my skin is black is tar
It ain't far from the real, real

Piss poor with problems
'Bout to pick pocket people
And my piece pipin' hot
While they preaching peace by the steeple
Yeah, we practice precaution
'Cause we peep how they peelin'
Capture blacks 'til they fascinated
We sing why we grievin'
Mama se mama sa, word to Michael we dangerous
Run home if you're scared of problems can't dodge 'em, we angels
Every tanto la muerte esperando el cielo
We ain't frownin' we black and brown
And we crowned with that yellow, go

Unrest in the city (unrest)
War in the city (it's war)
Pain in the city (pain)
Blood on the ground

They poisoned our organizations
Turned men to boys, instigated
Wars on our land with the Navy
Blue or your wet in red laces
You should be proud to rock darker hue and embrace it
I love the skin that I'm in
And I look like God when I'm naked, ask my wife

'Cause my skin is black as tar
It ain't far from the real, real

So if the wall breaks don't trip
You shoulda seen it coming from a million mile
Poison from your lips
Fed up from the days of just letting it slide
Don't hit me with the steel
'Cause my skin is black as tar
It ain't far from the real, real

Written by:
Daniel Farris, Eric Frederic, Nate Mercereau, Terrace Martin, Todd Bridges

Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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