Yes, I's finished on y'all farm land with yo' boll weevils and all,

and pluckin' y'all's chickens, fryin' mother's oats in grease. I's

free now, thanks to yo', Massa Lincoln, emancipator of the slaves.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, emanci-mother-fuckin-pator of the slaves.



Four score

I said four score and seven years ago

Oh sock it to 'em baby, you're sounding better all the time!

Our forefathers, I mean all our forefathers

Brought forth upon this here continent a new nation

Concieved, conceived like we all was

In liberty, and dedicated to the one I love

I mean dedicated to the proposition

That all men, honey, I tell you all men

Are created equal



Happy birthday, Abie baby,

Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, Abie baby,

Happy birthday to you

Bang!

Bang? Ha ha. Shit, I'm not dying for no white man.

(Tell it like it is, baby.)