When the white man went to Africa
A briefcase in his hand
A pristine Bible held another
As black man held the land
Now the black man holds the Bible
And turns to see his land is gone
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con

Who carved out the continent
Like an operating room?
Fragile rose of Reverend Ham
A living stone I presume

Fire and brimstone in their soul
And buckshot in their belt
The good book caught a bullet
That′s the hand the white man dealt
In east Africa they called you boy
In the west just plain garçon
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con

When the Scotsman went to Caribbean
With a slick tongue on the boat
He stepped ashore and took a young man
Tightly by the throat
Any man who slips we mind to Hades
They'll be gone
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con

And as he taught them every single verse
To old Amazing Grace
Betting ′bout to kill them
Bouju bent him perfectly in place

Fire and brimstone in their soul
And buckshot in their belt
The good book caught a bullet
That's the hand the white man dealt
In east Africa they called you boy
In the west just plain garçon
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con

When the white folk started singing
They only did in solemn prayer
And not till Pops and Mavis did
The spirit take them there
Now the gospel singer, she plays the clubs
And the soul man cleans the john
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con

Blind Boy Fuller, Howlin' Wolf
And all the blues men gone
All we′ve got to show for it
Is dry stone at number one

Fire and brimstone in their soul
And buckshot in their belt
The good book caught a bullet
That′s the hand the white man dealt
In east Africa they called you boy
In the west just plain garçon
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con

When the white man started singing
He put fingers straight in the air
He wouldn't play a song or style
That might risk his career
Previously a slave would trade
His freedom for the chance
To get off board and follow white man
To a song or dance
Now the whole world′s screaming R&B
And it's whiter than a swan
And finally you realise
The Lord′s a blue-eyed con

All Jim Crow, the minstrel show
The whole of history
You think you'll make it up to them
With a touch of Harper Lee

Fire and brimstone in their soul
And buckshot in their belt
The good book caught a bullet
That′s the hand the white man dealt
In east Africa they called you boy
In the west just plain garçon
And you realise the Lord
The Lord is a white con