Scattered People lyrics

[Intro – M-1]
Yeah. London, Belgium, [Zahir?], Haiti, Jamaica. DR, PR. Even if f*cking Babylon scattered

[Verse 1 – M-1]
Yo, I promote this, sat back and wrote this
Rhyme about the hopeless, add it to ya quote list
Don't miss the African rise, before your eyes
It won't be televised
And if it is, they prolly telling lies, to hold us back
It don't take a nation of millions, it take crack
And black folks selling the black
That's the game all over the world
We the same all over the world
We the same muthaf*ckas

[Verse 2 – Shabazz the Disciple]
Aiyo, I cultivate the soil of the mind like a farmer
I make it evident—heaven's a slave man's karma
The charmer of the serpent, the bomber of the merchant
Who will once exile savages in caves lurking
A black house divided, won't stand religion's mental prison
Life is mathematics, devils conquer with division
The black man's the numerator, black woman denominator
Once they been divided, the black child is the reminder

[Chorus – stic.man]
Who said street n*ggas ain't got no class?
This whole society divided by class
The rich cracker is the ruling class
The rich n*ggas is the middle class
And you and I make up the working class
Every man fall somewhere within his own certain class
And from the way things is looking, dun, we certain to clash
Scattered people, we all the same
[Verse 3 – dead prez and Shabazz the Disciple]
[M-1]
Yo, Puerto Ricans is poor people. They Africans too
So is Jamaica, and I ain't saying nothing that's new
Aiyo, the Mexican land, got pyramids like Egypt
Same tree, same root. Son, you best believe it
[stic.man]
The ghetto is a prison with invisible bars
Politicians know the problems, but they never get solved
They got us working like slaves at these capitalist jobs
Putting food on they tables while our neighborhoods starve
[Shabazz the Disciple]
Word, I know y’all feel a certain climate
What we deal with is culture refinement
We raise the dead before the vultures find it
I raise an ultraviolet
We on a kosher diet
I'm marching with the People’s Army, son, we multiplyin’

[Chorus x2 – stic.man]
Who said street n*ggas ain't got no class?
This whole society divided by class
The rich cracker is the ruling class
The rich n*ggas is the middle class
And you and I make up the working class
Every man fall somewhere within his own certain class
And from the way things is looking, dun, we certain to clash
Scattered people, we all the same