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Street Sweeper Social Club - Promenade Lyrics



Street Sweeper Social Club - Promenade Lyrics




[Boots Riley:]
Well I got a new kind of square dance rap
Gon' talk smack, flash my gat
I'm fin' to spit and hold my dick
And heat shit up like a thermostat
Grab your partner by the chaps
Give your partner a pimp slap
To symbolize, the ghetto trap
Step to the right, give three claps
Kids jam packed in tenement shacks
Ain't shit cookin on the stove but crack
This is the bat this hell begat
Cause bosses are kleptomaniacs

[Chorus: Boots Riley]
Two by two, Promenade
Duck from a B1 bomber raid
Ain't 'bout the plans Osama made
Banks get paid off petrol trade
Circulate, dosey-do
How much cash could a O-Z grow?
Till all are fed and all have beds
My skin is black, my star is red

[Boots Riley:]
FBI comin round the outside
Which one of us fin' to die tonight?
Is we fin' to fight over crumbs to bite
Or make a whole motherf*ckin world ignite?
Everybody throw them bows
Right upside your partner's nose
By now you've got bloody clothes
Crabs in the barrel so the story goes
Think of all their savage acts
Grabbin scratch from average cats
Bureaucrats with strings attached
Walk in the place, light the match

[Chorus]

[Solo by Tom Morello]

[Boots Riley:]
Everybody get down low
Bout the level, of your toes
These dance moves we usually do
Are not the ones that we have chose
Grab on to that beat and grind
Try your best to stay alive
We can't run, we can't hide
Might as well just stay and fight!

[Chorus]

[Guitar solo]

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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English

[Boots Riley:]
Well I got a new kind of square dance rap
Gon' talk smack, flash my gat
I'm fin' to spit and hold my dick
And heat shit up like a thermostat
Grab your partner by the chaps
Give your partner a pimp slap
To symbolize, the ghetto trap
Step to the right, give three claps
Kids jam packed in tenement shacks
Ain't shit cookin on the stove but crack
This is the bat this hell begat
Cause bosses are kleptomaniacs

[Chorus: Boots Riley]
Two by two, Promenade
Duck from a B1 bomber raid
Ain't 'bout the plans Osama made
Banks get paid off petrol trade
Circulate, dosey-do
How much cash could a O-Z grow?
Till all are fed and all have beds
My skin is black, my star is red

[Boots Riley:]
FBI comin round the outside
Which one of us fin' to die tonight?
Is we fin' to fight over crumbs to bite
Or make a whole motherf*ckin world ignite?
Everybody throw them bows
Right upside your partner's nose
By now you've got bloody clothes
Crabs in the barrel so the story goes
Think of all their savage acts
Grabbin scratch from average cats
Bureaucrats with strings attached
Walk in the place, light the match

[Chorus]

[Solo by Tom Morello]

[Boots Riley:]
Everybody get down low
Bout the level, of your toes
These dance moves we usually do
Are not the ones that we have chose
Grab on to that beat and grind
Try your best to stay alive
We can't run, we can't hide
Might as well just stay and fight!

[Chorus]

[Guitar solo]

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Boots Riley, Tom Morello
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing




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