i see skies of blue and clouds of white
the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
and i think to myself what a wonderful world.

the colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
are also on the faces of people going by
i see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
they’re really saying i love you.

see the market place in old angeer,
send me photographs and souveniers,
just remember when a dream appears,
you belong to me.

and i’ll be so alone without you,
maybe you’ll be lonesome, too.
fly the ocean in a silver plane,
see the jungle when it’s wet with rain.
just remember til you’re home again,
you belong to me.

three bodies lyin’ there does patty see
and another man named bello, movin’ around mysteriously.
“i didn’t do it,” he says, and he throws up his hands
“i was only robbin’ the register, i hope you understand.
i saw them leavin’,” he says, and he stops
“one of us had better call up the cops.”
and so patty calls the cops
and they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin’
in the hot new jersey night.

meanwhile, far away in another part of town
rubin carter and a couple of friends are drivin’ around.
number one contender for the middleweight crown
had no idea what kinda sh*t was about to go down
when a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
just like the time before and the time before that.
In paterson that’s just the way things go.
if you’re black you might as well not show up on the street
‘less you wanna draw the heat.

alfred bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops.
him and arthur dexter bradley were just out prowlin’ around
he said, “i saw two men runnin’ out, they looked like middleweights
they jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates.”
And miss patty valentine just nodded her head.
cop said, “wait a minute, boys, this one’s not dead”
so they took him to the infirmary
and though this man could hardly see
they told him that he could identify the guilty men.

four in the mornin’ and they haul rubin in,
take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs.
the wounded man looks up through his one dyin’ eye
says, “wha’d you bring him in here for? he ain’t the guy!”
yes, here’s the story of the hurricane,
the man the authorities came to blame
for somethin’ that he never done.
put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
the champion of the world.

four months later, the ghettos are in flame,
rubin’s in south america, fightin’ for his name
while arthur dexter bradley’s still in the robbery game
and the cops are puttin’ the screws to him, lookin’ for somebody to blame.
“remember that murder that happened in a bar?”
“remember you said you saw the getaway car?”
“you think you’d like to play ball with the law?”
“think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin’ that night?”
“don’t forget that you are white.”

arthur dexter bradley said, “i’m really not sure.”
cops said, “a poor boy like you could use a break
we got you for the motel job and we’re talkin’ to your friend bello
now you don’t wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow.
you’ll be doin’ society a favor.
that son of a b*tch is brave and gettin’ braver.
we want to put his ass in stir
we want to pin this triple murder on him
he ain’t no gentleman jim.”

rubin could take a man out with just one punch
but he never did like to talk about it all that much.
it’s my work, he’d say, and i do it for pay
and when it’s over i’d just as soon go on my way
up to some paradise
where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
and ride a horse along a trail.
but then they took him to the jailhouse
where they try to turn a man into a mouse.

all of rubin’s cards were marked in advance
the trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance.
the judge made rubin’s witnesses drunkards from the slums
to the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
and to the black folks he was just a crazy n*gger.
no one doubted that he pulled the trigger.
and though they could not produce the gun,
the d.a. said he was the one who did the deed
and the all-white jury agreed.

rubin carter was falsely tried.
the crime was murder “one,” guess who testified?
bello and bradley and they both baldly lied
and the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.
how can the life of such a man
be in the palm of some fool’s hand?
to see him obviously framed
couldn’t help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
where justice is a game.

n*ggas up in my hood be getting shot, given poison
in hospitals, shots riddle the block
little children and elderly women run for their lives
drizzling rain come out the sky every time somebody dies,
must be out my f*cking mind, what is this, the hundreth time?
sending flowers to funerals, reading rest in peace
you know the usual, death comes in threes
life is short is what some n*gga said
not if you measure life by how one lives and what he did
it’s funny how these black killer companies is making money off us
fast food, colas, sodas, skull and bone crosses

it’s all poison, ecstacy, coke
you say its love, it is poison
schools where i learned they should be burned, it is poison
physicians prescripting us medicine which is poison
doctors injecting our infants with the poison
religion misoverstood is poison

sisters up in my hood trying to do good given choices
when pregnant drop out of school or have abortions
stop working hoping that they find a man that will support them
up late night on their mothers cordless, thinking a perm or
bleaching cream will make them better, when they’re gorgeous
white girls tanning, lyposuction
fake t*tties are implanted, fake lips that’s life destruction
lightskin women, bi-racial hateful toward themselves
denying even their blood
i don’t judge Tiger Woods but i overstand the mental poison
that’s even worser than drugs

yo its poison, ecstacy, coke
you say its love, it is poison
schools where i learned they should be burned, it is poison
physicians prescripting us medicine which is poison
doctors injecting our infants with the poison
religion misoverstood is poison

radio and tv poison, “white Jesus” poison
and any thoughts of taking me down is poison
who want beef now, my heat shall annoint them
plaow

never to worry, all the wrong doers got it coming back to ’em
a thousand times over
every dog has its day and everything flips around
even the most greatest nation in the world has it coming back to ’em
everybody reaps what they sows thats how it goes
innocent lives will be taken, it may get worse but we’ll get through it
y’all be strong

the china-men built the railroad
the indians saved the pilgrim
and in return the pilgrim killed ’em
they call it it thanksgiving, i call your holiday hellday
’cause i’m from poverty, neglected by the wealthy
me and my n*ggas share gifts every day like christmas
slay b*tches and party everyday like this is the last
i’m with my heckles connecting and we hitting the lad
this is my level, f*ck if it get you mad
it’s all poison, all of my words to enemies it is poison
rappers only talk about keys, it’s all poison
how could you call yourself emcees you ain’t poison
think about the kids you mislead with the poison
and any thoughts of taking me down is all poison
who want beef now, my heat shall annoint them
plaow

what goes around comes around, my n*gga
and what goes up, it must come down, my n*gga
the soldiers found below the ground, my n*gga
just hold it down, we older now, my n*gga
what goes around comes around, my n*gga
and what goes up, it must come down, my n*gga
the soldiers found below the ground, my n*gga
just hold it down, we older now, my n*gga

this n*gga ike with the iverson jersey
light skin with herpees
f*ckin’ sisters in harlem, brooklyn and d.c.
this is the problem cause he never tell ’em he got it
from letting fags suck him off rikers Island in nine-three
drives in benz, hangs in all the parties
all the concerts, backstage where the stars be
rocking their shirts in b*tches faces like clockwork
whats your name, where you from, chain blinging
thinking girls everywhere’s dumb, taking powder ruining their lives
so they could never have babies, and they could never be wives
he never used a condom, give him head he got ya
met the wrong b*tch and now he dead from the monster: AIDs
i contemplate, believing in karma
those on top could just break and wont be eating tomorrow
i know some b*tches who be sleeping on n*ggas’ dreams
they leave when their n*gga blow she the first bitch on her knees
knowing dudes thats neglecting their seeds
instead of taking care of ’em they spending money on trees
i pray for you deadbeat daddies
’cause when them kids get grown its too late for you
now you old and you getting shitted on
it’s all scientific, mystic, you know the earth and the stars
don’t hesitate to say you heard it from nas
what is destined shall be
george bush killer til george bush kills me
much blessings be healthy, remember