What do the wise know of world revolutions, when time is the master in this ultimate solution? When the blackman is no longer a host, a shell perpetrating, sporting whities ghost. Running thru illusions of mental masterbation, swinging on his balls like it's a new sensation... But what do the wise know, while we're busting at the seams, strolling through this life, when all his life is but a dream. Caught in the darkness, said his life is filled with sin... but deep within his melanin is where it all begins. pissing but not peeing, living but not being, African but European.... Sh*t, what do the wise know, with words caught in his breath, while the foolish believe in this illusion called death. Walking through life, aimed for heaven or hell... a white mans' story that nihggers now tell... Still singing songs wash me whiter than snow... but ***** all that sh*t, cause the snow has got to go... Imagine me building a white man in my yard, while the deaf dum and blind see that vision as Lord... But what do the wise know, and why are they so quiet... when sounds uttered helplessly stimulate a mental riot. Driving nihggers insane, making life seem so vain... breaking down Moses rod to reveal who's truly God... parting the Red Sea, the sea inside of me... ***** Muhammad and Jesus, myths created to please us, the Bible and the Qu'ran now it's time to get it own! As I ask, what do the wise know.... The wise know as the wind blows and the sh*t goes in our slummberish nod, the black man and woman are the ORIGINAL GODS !!