Text:
The Clash The Leader

have something good to read on a Sunday The leader's wife takes a government car In the dark to meet her minister But the leader never leaves his door

something good to read on a Sunday The leader's wife takes a government car In the dark to meet her minister But the leader never leaves his door ajar

have something good to read on a Sunday The leader's wife takes a government car In the dark to meet her minister But the leader never leaves his door

in my bed And I be tossin' and turnin' tryin' to avoid my dreams And I can hear the niggas lettin' off they lead around the corner Got me feelin' paranoia

and pillaged my city and spread disease Feel the sword of the warrior's wrath, the path you take Can lead to the math that the masters break The clash

gets into two or three quarrels Leadin to a squabble, someone will die tomorrow Life is not a thing you can borrow All beefs don't have to lead to sorrow

block up Cop killers, clap at coppers, blast at choppers Pass the vodka, listen, don't ever mention Dash or Hoffa It's a Harlem thing dog, you'll clash

not move, yet I'll stand still, instead There on the battlefield he stands Down the battlefield he's lost And on the battlefield it ends War and anger shall reign The clash

the bottle, jungle captive Where mc's got little cocks on teeth with fillings out like magnets Caught up in the dragnet, tri-felon Shoula packed a plastic handheld lead