The moon is on the Whiteys,
And I don’t think they can Handle it

It’s dark the elephants have there candles lit, the donkey’s throats are slit.

It’s civil war inside of these politics, we politely put are pleads in poems.

Asked for are reparations in respect but yet, they fled when
we tryed to cash there faulty reality checks.

Whitey went to the moon, at 6 a clock noon, in found away to segregate that too.

Never investigated the dark side, are side was part tied up in a gangbang between the streets, in promiscuous government sluts.
They thought we gave up when they gave us climetia in Tuskegee but that didn’t break us.

That’s why whitey went to the moon, Shit that didn’t phase us we went too.

Eclipsed it brought a couple poet trees to it, found capitalism lynched it, then went banana apes on there zoo.

Made mistakes out of pigs and blue, finally confronted the elephant In the room exposed the donkey in office for his jackass moves .

They was yelling for the coons to retreat back to earth , but we had eclipsed that too.

Whitey on the news, whitey in the White House contemplating plans like what should we do.

Them niggas trippin next couple of days the White House missing replaced with the moon they still Tryna broadcast us

While there stuck, they said we didn’t land on Plymouth rock Plymouth rock landed on us .

The moon is on the Whiteys.