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Jay Electronica - Universal Soldier

Universal Soldier
Jay Electronica
04:19
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Текст песни

This is the gallant crew that rolled the big Superfort which carried the first atomic bomb to Japan. Piloted by Colonel Paul Tibbets Jr. of Miami, carrying Navy Captain William Parsons of Chicago, who helped design the bomb, as observer, and Major Thomas Ferebee of Mocksville, North Carolina, who pulled the plug on Hiroshima. The B-29 dropped its load of atomic death which exploded with a force equal to 20,000 tons of TNT.

[Intro: Jay Electronica]
Bismillah! (Bismillah)
Bismillah! (Bismillah)
(A'oodhu Billaahi) A'oodhu Billaahi min al-Shaytaan ir-rajeem.
Bismillah! (Bismillah)
Ashadu an lâ ilâha illa-llâhWa
Ashadu anna Muhammad rasûl allâh.

[Verse 1: Jay Electronica]
The son of slaves, true, I started out as a peasant, (Uh-uh)
That's why I build my temple like Solomon in the desert, (Uh-uh)
The Lord is my rock, I speed dial through salat,
My trials in the fiery crucible made me hot.
I glow like embers of coal, born with a touch of gold,
My mathematical theology of rhymin' a touch the soul,
I spent many nights bent off Woodford
Clutchin' the bowl, stuffin' my nose,
Some of the cons, I suffered for prose.
My poetry's livin' like the God that I fall back on,
And all praises due to Allah for such a illustrious platform,
The teachings of the Honorable Elijah Muhammad's my backbone,
When I spit, the children on the Mothership bow on a platform.
The true history of Jesus comin' to age,
I wore a ski mask and glove to the masquerade.
Uh, I got the Roc on my shoulder, (It's the Roc)
Somebody should've told you, I'm a motherfuckin' universal soldier!

[Verse 2: JAY-Z]
Back when Emory Jones was catchin' the fed charge,
I knew less about Chesimard,
All about Pablo Escobar.
Thinkin' I was the last one Allah would lay his blessings on,
I was tryin' not to end up like Tony in the restaurant.
Now I'm the general of the geechie army,
What don't kill us make us stronger, that's Nietzsche on me,
Hot boy like I'm B.G., that Fiji on me,
We done ducked them fed' charges, now we eatin' confit.
Le fric, c'est chic,
That guilt trip ain't gon' work, don't put your luggage on we,
You ain't keep the same energy for the du Pont's and Carnegie's,
We was in your cotton fields, now we sittin' on Bs, on me!

[Outro: James Blake]
Save my soul
Save me from myself
Save my soul

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