The Last Poets - White Man's Got a God Complex lyrics

So...up down On the corner, up town I turn around and hear the sound A voice is talking about Who's gonna die next Cause the white man's got a god complex Silent n***as scream for help Aaah!! Help me! Help me! n***a, make your own help sh**, you need it I turn around and hear the sound Of jukeboxes playing in bars Pimps parked outside in big pretty Cadillac cars Cleaner than a broke-dick dog Sitting in a big fine hog Dressed very fine in a mohair silk vine But Jim Dale'll die next Cause the white man's got a god complex Hey brother, what's your sport, my man? I got just the thing for you Only costs ten and two What you gonna do, baby? I got black ones, brown ones Wed ones, yellow ones I even got a white one if you wanna buy some Yeah, that's right 2-50-8, play it straight I got it all worked out You know what I'm talking about Been reading my dream book Ain't no way in the world A kid gon' get took n***a, what you mean I didn't hit n***a, you full of sh** Lick dice, uh, now seven C'mon be nice and hit eleven Well what do you know, it's Little Joe Hey my man, got 20 dollars say Little Joe don't blow Ha, baby needs a pair of shoes Ah, papa's got the funky blues Ah, mama plays the crossword in the news Snake eyes... Sorry, n***a, you lose The line forms to the rear, lady And I don't care if you never cash your welfare checks Cause the white man's got a god complex But I got ten babies I ain't got no man I ain't got no choice but to hold out my hand And feed my young ones the best way I can Hey man, what you mean no doubles on blackjack Punk, you better change that rule cause I ain't no fool You better bee cool, Jim, or you'll die next Cause the white man's got a god complex Hey, my man, uh, I wanna cop a nickel bag You say all you got is skag Wow that's a drag, cause uh I don't wanna cop no Dope is...d**h next Cause the white man's got a god complex Hey baby, where's the gig at tonight? Well, there's one over at Slick's For f*ggots and tricks There's one around graveyard's Side of town that'll cost you a pound But if you don't know what I know You better pack your piece, at least Or you'll die next Cause the white man's got a god complex Mr. Stein, I done paid enough rent For this pad to be mine But you just want to cheat me cause I ain't your kind Damn, can't you see the place is falling down? No, you can't dig it cause you ain't never around Damn I'm so poor I don't know what in the hell I'm gonna do any more Not from this day to the next Cause the white man's got a god complex I'm making guns! (I'm god!) (oh god!) I'm making bombs! (I'm god!) I'm making gas! (I'm god!) I'm making freak machines! (I'm god!) Birth control pills! (I'm god!) k**ed Indians who discovered him! (I'm god!) k** the Japanese with the a-bomb! (I'm god!) k**ed and still k**ing black people! (I'm god!) Enslaving the earth! (I'm god!) Done went to the moon! (I'm god!) Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! oh god! Oh god! Oh god! oh god! Ohgodohgodohgodohgod Oh gggggggggggaaaahhhhhhhhhd! (spelled backwards is DOG.)