Back to the previous page

Artist: Professor Griff and The Last Asiatic Disciples
Album:  Pawns in the Game
Song:   The Word of God Griff on Duty
Typed by: cureforlife399@gmail.com

[Professor Griff]
This is a letter to the president
Dated January fifth, nineteen ninety
Dear Mister President
I am writing this letter to you
To inform you that your time is up
God says he wants his Earth and his chosen people back
You've had it now, for what, six thousand years
And you've used, abused and misused it
You've dropped atom bombs on the brown man
Stole gun powder from the yellow man and made guns
Made trees and roped them with the red man
The Indian who discovered you
Enslaved the black man, and dehumanized him

Now you're tryin' this test in a tube
Tryin' to make a new race
Of people to believe in you
Oh, your German brother Adolf Hitler tried that once before
And before him, your father Yakub
Thank you, Mister President

Oh, oh, by the way, I forgot to mention
You bombed Libya and you killed Gaddafi's little girl
You send Mister N. Goodman to drop bombs on Syria
And your C.I.A., that controls international affairs
Deals drugs for you in Panama and Colombia

It was you who sold arms to Iraq and Iran at the same time
You tried to go to the Moon, but Allah would not permit it
He warned you through a little black man named Elijah what you would find there
And he also told you he'd give you a peep into the heavens
Before he would destroy you

You do trading with P.W. Botha and de Klerk of South Africa
You break down the wall in Eastern Europe
But you build a wall of hate with your ex-slaves who built your country
You inject Suzi with all kind of drugs both foreign and domestic
While she's pregnant with your bastard child
You sneak into the country
From a welfare illegitimate country you stole from the Palestinians

You pay reparations to Japan and the Jews
But who will pay for the kidnapping of the black man
You claim Russia to be your big ugly bear and your enemy
But it's you who destabilize governments with your I.M.F. schemes
You say the pope is the man who is the one that's closest to God
But he worships a Black Madonna

You've tested your germ warfare on the black people of America
And throughout the world
You've tested your genetic warfare on the human family
You've murdered every prophet that came to you on salvation plan
You've developed an antichrist mechanism
Entitled the Universal Product Code
So now that is knockin' on your ally's door
Wanted once more to stay with the whore America

You weak to counter your bloodthirsty, deceitful, sinful, slothful beasts
With your wicked, egotistical, pompous, jackass war mentality
To keep this in nature with your reprobate mind
Animal-loving, underhanded, backstabbing
Double-dealing, double-crossing devils
I know now
You brought V.D., AIDS, syphilis, gonorrhea to the ends of the Earth

And after all of this
Farrakhan says, 'let my people go' and you refuse
Poor, poor, poor Mister President
It's reaping time now
And I'll see you at ringside
Oh, I forgot one other thing
It's God that you'll be fighting

Peace