1130 lines
34 KiB
Plaintext
1130 lines
34 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[Public Enemy - Apocalypse 91 Lyrics] [ By THE CHIEF ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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A P O C A L Y P S E 91 ... T H E E N E M Y S T R I K E S B L A C K
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TYPED IN BY THE CHIEF
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SIDE 1 SIDE 2
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--------------------- --------------------------------
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Lost At Birth I Don't Wanna Be Called Yo Niga
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Rebirth How To Kill A Radio Consultant
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Nighttrain By The Time I Get To Arizona
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Can't Truss It
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SIDE 3 SIDE 4
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--------------------- --------------------------------
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Move! Shut Em Down
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1 Million Bottlebags A Letter To The New York Post
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More News At 11 Get The F--- Outta Dodge
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Bring Tha Noize (w/Anthrax)
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______________________________________________________________________________
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LOST AT BIRTH -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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Clear the way for the prophets of rage
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Engagin' on the stage, on a track
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Tell Jack stay in the back
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I was born
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Every level I'm on
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You're warned
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Just in case you forgot
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I pump in kilowatts
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To let 'em know which direction
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To go what's up I wanna know
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I test the front row
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Forgiven the givin' while the livin' is livin' it up
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So many people is sleepin' while standin' up
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Not dressed to impress or fess it
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That's it text to the brain like FedEx
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Treated one and the same
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'Cause the name of the game
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Don't give 'em checks above necks
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Some don't realize the same side
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Siddity in the city
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Suburbs or projects
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But we're livin' in a different time
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Some speed, some lead
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While some jus' pump rhymes
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Then again all in da same gang
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Info to flow
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And heal all below
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Let's go and find
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The piece of mind that's taken
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Or else the black
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or start breakin'
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Public Enemy no!
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______________________________________________________________________________
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REBIRTH -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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When I get down
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I give what go around
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And when I cough
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I do my best to cut it off
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I don't claim to be a preacher
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Not paid to be a teacher
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But I'm grown
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I try to be a leader to the bone
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Never could follow a man
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Wit' a bottle
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He's a baby wit' a beard
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Not a feared role model
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And they ask me where I got it
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I get it from my pops
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Wit' a man in the house
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All the bullshit stops
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Then I sing a song
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About what the hell is goin' wrong
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You never know
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If you only trust the TV and the radio
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These days
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You can't see who's in cahoots
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'Cause now the KKK
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Wears three-piece suits
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It's like that y'all, it's like that y'all
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In fact you know it's like that y'all
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______________________________________________________________________________
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NIGHTTRAIN -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-The JBL-Depper-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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Land of the free
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But the skin I'm in identifies me
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So the people around me
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Energize me
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Callin' all aboard this train ride
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Talkin' 'bout raw hardcore
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Leavin' frauds on the outside
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But the bad thing is anyone can ride the train
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And the reason
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For that is 'cause we look the same
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Lookin' all around at my so called friend
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Light skin to the brown
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The black
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Here we go again
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Homey over there knows Keith an
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But he be thiefin'
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I don't trust him
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Rather bust 'em
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Up out goes his hand and I cough
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He once stole from me
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Yeah I wanna cut it off
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The black thing is a ride I call the nighttrain
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It rides the good and the bad
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We call the monkey trained
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Trained to attack the black it's true
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'Cause some of them look just like you
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Stayin' on the scene
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Sittin' on the train
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See all the faces
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Look about the same
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There go the sellout who's takin' a ride like Cargo
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'Cause he deal
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The keys from Key Largo
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Runnin' Nat narcotic
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By George he got it
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Takin' makin' the G erotic
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And the fiends they scheme
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So he can put 'em down
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But his method is wreck 'em
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Put 'em in tha ground
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Got tha nerve as hell
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To yell brother man
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He ain't black man
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Known to murder his own
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Traitor on the phone
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Ridin' the train
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Self-hater trained
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To sell pain
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The master's toy
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Little boy
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Hard to avoid he look wit' it but he null 'n' void
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'Cause he ridin' the train you think he down for the cause
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'Cause his face looks just like yours
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More of the same insane who sayin'
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Like flowin' like nighttrain
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Runnin' the pain of the black reign
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You look, you laugh
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You doubt and go out
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And I'm gone
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But the bass goes on
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To talk the talk, but walk the walk
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The king of New York
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Crack a lack attack the black
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To crack the back
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Once again I test a friend wit' sincerity
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Or consider him an enemy
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Who am I to tell a lie
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Rather push da bush
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Hope da cracker get crushed
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I'm rollin' wit' rush
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Leader of the bum rush
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Russian I ain't
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Spreadin' like paint
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Lookin' at the put I got
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And its kickin'
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But it ain't chicken
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But it's livin' for a city
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So sick 'n' tired
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Of a scene buckwild, piled in a file
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Senile or chile
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They said it never been no worser
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Than this, I'm on the nighttrain
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They hope ya don't miss it
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Give ya what dey gotta give you just go
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You musn't just put your
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Trust in every brother yo
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Some don't give a damn
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'Cause they the other man
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Worse than a bomb
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Posin' as Uncle Toms
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Disgracin' the race
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Blowin' up
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The whole crew
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Wit' some of them lookin'
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Just like you
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______________________________________________________________________________
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CAN'T TRUSS IT -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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Bass in your face
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Not an eight track
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Gettin' it good to the wood
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So the people
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Give you some a dat
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Reactin' to the fax
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That I kick and it stick
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And it stay around
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Pointin' to the joint, put the Buddha down
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Goin', goin', gettin' to the roots
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Ain't givin' it up
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So turn me loose
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But then again I got a story
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That's harder than the hardcore
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Cost of the holocaust
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I'm talin' 'bout the one still goin' on
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I know
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Where I'm from, not dum diddie dum
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From the base motherland
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The place of the drum
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Invaded by the wack diddie wack
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Fooled the black, left us faded
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King and chief probably had a big beef
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Because of dat now I grit my teeth
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So here's a song to the strong
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'Bout a shake of a snake
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And the smile went along wit dat
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Can't truss it
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Kickin' wicked rhymes
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Like a fortune teller
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'Cause the wickedness done by Jack
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Where everybody at
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Divided and sold
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For liquor and the gold
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Smacked in the back
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For the other man to mack
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Now the story that I'm kickin' is gory
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Little Rock where they be
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Dockin' this boat
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No hope I'm shackled
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Plus gang tackled
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By the other hand swingin' the rope
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Wearin' red, white and blue Jack and his crew
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The guy's authorized beat down for the brown
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Man to the man, each one so it teach one
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Born to terrorize sisters and every brother
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One love who said it
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I know Whodini sang it
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But the hater taught hate
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That's why we gang bang it
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Beware of the hand
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When it's comin' from the left
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I ain't trippin' just watch ya step
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Can't truss it
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An I judge everyone, one by the one
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Look here come the judge
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Watch it here he come now
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I can only guess what's happ'nin'
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Years ago he woulda been
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The ships captain
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Gettin' me bruised on a cruise
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What I got to lose, lost all contact
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Got me layin' on my back
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Rollin' in my own leftover
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When I roll over, I roll over in somebody else's
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90 F--kin' days on a slave ship
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Count 'em fallin' off 2, 3, 4 hun'ed at a time
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Blood in the wood and it's mine
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I'm chokin' on spit feelin' pain
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Like my brain bein' chained
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Still gotta give it what I got
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But it's hot in the day, cold in the night
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But I thrive to survive, I pray to god to stay alive
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Attitude boils up inside
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And that ain't it (think I'll every quit)
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Still I pray to get my hands 'round
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The neck of the man wit' the whip
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3 months pass, they brand a label on my ass
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To signify
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Owned
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I'm on the microphone
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Sayin' 1555
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How I'm livin'
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We been livin' here
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Livin' ain't the word
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I been givin'
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Haven't got
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Classify us in the have-nots
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Fightin' haves
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'Cause it's all about money
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When it comes to Armageddon
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Mean I'm getting mine
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Here I am turn it over Sam
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427 to the year
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Do you understand
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That's why it's hard
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For the black to love the land
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Once again
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Bass in your face
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Not an eight track
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Gettin' it good to the wood
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So the people
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Give you some a dat
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Reactin' to the fax
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That I kick and it stick
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And it stay around
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Pointin' to the joint, put the Buddha down
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Goin', goin', gettin' to the roots
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Ain't givin' it up
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So turn me loose
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But then again I got a story
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That's harder than the hardcore
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Cost of the holocaust
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I'm talin' 'bout the one still goin' on
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I know
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Where I'm from, not dum diddie dum
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From the base motherland
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The place of the drum
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Invaded by the wack diddie wack
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Fooled the black, left us faded
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King and chief probably had a big beef
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Because of dat now I grit my teeth
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So here's a song to the strong
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'Bout a shake of a snake
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And the smile went along wit dat
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Can't truss it
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______________________________________________________________________________
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I DON'T WANNA BE CALLED YO NIGA -Drayton-Gary G-Wiz-Robertz-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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Yo! ho! yo niga! yo niga! no niga!
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Check it out
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How can you say to me yo my niga
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Cursin' up a storm with your finger on a trigger
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Feelin' all the girls like a big gold digger
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Take a small problem
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Make a small problem bigger
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Yo I ain't poor I got dough
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Don't consider me your brother no more
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Goddamn kilogram, how do you figure
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I don't want to be called yo niga
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Yo niga
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Hey
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Yo niga
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I try to make my statements
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Stick like flypaper
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Judge says to me yo niga sign these goddamn papers
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My boss told me yo niga you're fired
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Yo niga this, yo niga that
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I know you're a niga now 'cause your head got fat
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Flava framalama boy you won't figure
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I don't wanna be called yo niga
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Yo niga
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Break it down
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N.I.G.G.E.R.
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Niga
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Everybody sayin' it
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Everybody playin' it rolling on the scales
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'Cause everybody's weighin' it
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Toby say yo I be good niga
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Let me get a shovel make a good digger
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I don't care how small or bigger
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I don't want to be called yo niga
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Yo niga...
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______________________________________________________________________________
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HOW TO KILL A RADIO CONSULTANT -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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Pusher of the button
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Talkin' loud ain't sayin' nuttin'
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The mack of the format gettin' fat
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Ain't funny 'cause my neighborhood
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Is flowin' money
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Thank God 4 the boulevard
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They keep the motor runnin'
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The rap shows coincide wit' the tape flow
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Bootleggers go inside and record the record low
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They get me, get this now can you freestyle
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Freestyle no styles free except da radio
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But the radio controlled by the sucker move
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Who moved away got away after plannin' a getaway
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An now he wanna play what he wanna play
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An got say on what is bumpin' of course he's gettin' somethin'
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Never know what's good to tha neighborhood
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Swear I never seen da sucker
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In my necka da woods
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The ass is connected to the brain stem
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So I sing a simple song
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So you can see the sucker in 'em
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People got to make a call
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To hear the yes y'all (yes y'all)
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While the phone keep ringin'
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You hear some singer singin'
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Why don't dey play the jammy in the daytime
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People think it's slammin' plus the rhyme
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Is hot an got me tunin'
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The afternoon is FM in the PM
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Oh if that they could see 'im
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Out-of-towner not down I think they'll dis him
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Up goes the season, pop goes the weasel
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Damn gimme rap no band I want some x-clan
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I know dey even got it from the giddy
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Stacked in the back
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Only black radio station in the city
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Programmed by a sucker in a suit
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Slick back hair he don't even live here
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Raps the number one pick so I draft it
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I don't care about all the other demographics
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When the quiet storm come on I fall sleep
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What dey need is Arbitron on the funky jeep
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Too bad it's goin' on in fact my word is bond
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To pull a disappearin' act attack until he gone
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The whacker jam he play they pay I'm in da day
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I don't think we gonna miss 'im we don't need 'im anyway
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Can I kick it
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Who the hell is on the radio
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Or who's behind
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Do you really think they'll mind
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To play the funky jams
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That everybody wit'
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Some Def Jef or Ice T
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Show they rollin' wit' the syndicate
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Or can dey get funky
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Wit' the underground
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Master ace get a taste
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Bomb squad gettin' hard
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Marley mart makin' hipper
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Trax for Jack The Ripper
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Pumpin' Eric B or Papa San
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Still rollin' wit' run
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Did you think that ever
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In fact you thought that never
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Control of your soul
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Is by a suit and tie
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Then U wonder why why U never hear a rhyme
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I say we do 'im
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Till it's done
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______________________________________________________________________________
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BY THE TIME I GET TO ARIZONA -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-Mandrill-
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Santiago-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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I'm countin' down to the day deservin'
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Fittin' for a king
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I'm waitin' for the time when I can
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Get to Arizona
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'Cause my money's spent on
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The goddamn rent
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Neither party is mine not the
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Jackass or the elephant
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20.000 nig niggy nigas in the corner
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Of the cell block but they come
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From California
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Population none in the desert and sun
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Wit' a gun cracker
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Runnin' things under his thumb
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Starin' hard at the postcards
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Isn't it odd and unique?
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Seein' people smile wild in the heat
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120 degree
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'Cause I wanna be free
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What's a smilin' fact
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When the whole state's racist
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Why want a holiday F--k it 'cause I wanna
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So what if I celebrate it standin' on a corner
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I ain't drinkin' no 40
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I B thinkin' time wit' a nine
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Until we get some land
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Call me the trigger man
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Looki lookin' for the governor
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Huh he ain't lovin' ya
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But here to trouble ya
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He's rubbin' ya wrong
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Get the point come along
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An he can get to the joint
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I urinated on the state
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While I was kickin' this song
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Yeah, he appear to be fair
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The cracker over there
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He try to keep it yesteryear
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The good ol' days
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The same ol' ways
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That kept us dyin'
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Yes, you me myself and I'ndeed
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What he need is a nosebleed
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Read between the lines
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Then you see the lie
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Politically planned
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But understand that's all she wrote
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When we see the real side
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That hide behind the vote
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They can't understand why he the man
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I'm singin' 'bout a king
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They don't like it
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When I decide to mike it
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Wait I'm waitin' for the date
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For the man who demands respect
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'Cause he was great c'mon
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I'm on the one mission
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To get a politician
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To honor or he's a gonner
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By the time I get to Arizona
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I got 25 days to do it
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If a wall in the sky
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Just watch me go thru it
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'Cause I gotta do what I gotta do
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PE number one
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Gets the job done
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When it's done and over
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Was because I drove'er
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Thru all the static
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Not stick but automatic
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That's the way it is
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He gotta get his
|
|
Talin' MLK
|
|
Gonna find a way
|
|
Make the state pay
|
|
Lookin' for the day
|
|
Hard as it seems
|
|
This ain't no damn dream
|
|
Gotta know what I mean
|
|
It's team against team
|
|
Catch the light beam
|
|
So I pray
|
|
I pray everyday
|
|
I do and praise jah the maker
|
|
Lookin' for culture
|
|
I got but not here
|
|
From jah maker
|
|
Pushin' and shakin' the structure
|
|
Bringin' down the babylon
|
|
Hearin' the sucker
|
|
That make it hard for the brown
|
|
The hard Boulova
|
|
I need now
|
|
More than ever now
|
|
Who's sittin' on my freedah'
|
|
Opressor people beater
|
|
Piece of the pick
|
|
We picked a piece
|
|
Of land that we deservin' now
|
|
Reparation a piece of the nation
|
|
And damn he got the nerve
|
|
Another niga they say and classify
|
|
We want too much
|
|
My peep plus the whole nine is mine
|
|
Don't think I even double dutch
|
|
Here's a brother my attitude hit 'em
|
|
Hang 'em high
|
|
Blowin' up the 90s started tickin' 86
|
|
When the blind get a mind
|
|
Better start and earn while we sing it
|
|
Now
|
|
There will be the day we know those down and who will go
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
MOVE! -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper- (Featuring Sister Souljah)
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
Signed, sealed, delivered I B yours
|
|
I pour it on the breaks
|
|
Till it break laws
|
|
Givin' the gabbin'
|
|
So the brothers be havin' it
|
|
Or else the five fingers of dope'll
|
|
Be grabbin' it
|
|
Wit' no complaints
|
|
Givin' uppin' I ain't
|
|
On the mike
|
|
Like Karl Malone in the paint
|
|
Why rip a rapper
|
|
When he flow like water
|
|
I rather rush a television reporter
|
|
The frauds that tried to front
|
|
Watch ya back
|
|
Stop pullin' those lil' stunts
|
|
Assault and battery
|
|
'Cause I snatched the battery
|
|
Off his back...the TV pack
|
|
Why pop the rhyme
|
|
On a rhymer when I kick it
|
|
Rather spend my time, spittin' on a bigot
|
|
Who pumped the pimp
|
|
That fed the fiends
|
|
He got jumped by the brothers in Ft. Green
|
|
They slapped the mack
|
|
That kept us back
|
|
Sucker suckin' the hood like drack
|
|
So if ya draggin' us down
|
|
Wit' the wack attitude
|
|
Get up, lookout, get out the way
|
|
Move
|
|
Signed
|
|
Sealed
|
|
Definition of a set-up
|
|
Pourin' it on and won't let up
|
|
'Cause f-a-l-l-i-n
|
|
Never applied
|
|
To this brother that tried
|
|
To let ya know
|
|
The folk of the American joke
|
|
That kept us broke
|
|
Now I'm ready to rap
|
|
Strong fax I swing
|
|
Like Bo Jax
|
|
I'm never calm on a bomb track
|
|
60 percent 3/fifths
|
|
Constituted
|
|
Huh prostituted
|
|
Why I'm mad
|
|
'Cause it's written on the paper
|
|
Right now
|
|
Muther F--- bow
|
|
Kicked
|
|
The
|
|
Lyric
|
|
About
|
|
The tricks
|
|
Of the trade and the money made
|
|
Who got the money betcha bottom
|
|
Dollar bill
|
|
Gonna find
|
|
Some rich ol' bloodline
|
|
But the blood is in the mud
|
|
Take the whack an attack it
|
|
Like a Skud
|
|
To the patriotic hater
|
|
That got paid off my people
|
|
I'm rude
|
|
Lookout, get out the way
|
|
MOVE
|
|
Signed
|
|
An what I'm gettin' is mine
|
|
I bring the noise
|
|
To town
|
|
So let's get down
|
|
I cranked the beats
|
|
Tearin' up the street
|
|
And the park
|
|
An it ain't Mozart
|
|
Jack movin' out
|
|
'Cause the black movin' in
|
|
And its old
|
|
I said it in
|
|
Who Stole The Soul?
|
|
(Listen) but 92 bring
|
|
An attitude
|
|
That say I don't give a
|
|
Fuck
|
|
About the old way
|
|
This is a new day
|
|
Tell Jack stay in the back
|
|
And all the other
|
|
Suckers
|
|
That don't matter
|
|
You got
|
|
Somethin' to prove
|
|
Scatter
|
|
Get out the way
|
|
MOVE!
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
1 MILLION BOTTLEBAGS -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
One million bottlebags count 'em
|
|
Think they can bounce the ounce
|
|
And it get 'em
|
|
Yo black spend 288 million
|
|
Sittin' there waitin' for the fizz
|
|
And don't know what the fuck it is
|
|
An oh lemme tell you 'bout shorty
|
|
He about seventeen lookin' like 40
|
|
Treats his 40 dog better than his g
|
|
When he gets a big b-o-t-t-l-e
|
|
Oh he loves tha liquor
|
|
But look watch shorty get sicker
|
|
Year after year
|
|
While he's thinkin' it's beer
|
|
But it's not but he got it in his gut
|
|
So what the fuck
|
|
Yo niga what's up
|
|
Now he's hostile to a brother lookin' out
|
|
But I ain't mad I know what he about
|
|
He's just a slave to the bottle and the can
|
|
'Cause that's his man
|
|
The malt liquor man
|
|
One million bags count 'em all
|
|
Other man gets happy
|
|
Watch the killas drink 8 ball
|
|
Don't know a damn thing
|
|
But his breath stinkin'
|
|
Then I ask a question you brother
|
|
What the fuck is you drinkin'
|
|
He don't know but it flow
|
|
Out the bottle in a cup
|
|
He call it gettin' fucked up
|
|
Like we ain't fucked up already
|
|
See the man they call Crazy Eddie
|
|
Liquor man with the bottle in his hand
|
|
He give the liquor man ten to begin
|
|
Wit' no change and he run
|
|
To get his brains rearranged
|
|
Serve it to the home they're able
|
|
To do without a table
|
|
Beside what's inside ain't on the label
|
|
They drink it thinkin' it's good
|
|
But they don't sell the shit in the white neighborhood
|
|
Exposin' the plan they get mad at me I understand
|
|
They're slaves to the liquor man
|
|
Back to my homeboy shorty
|
|
He can drink it down
|
|
And think nuttin' about it
|
|
Pass it around and get tha 40 dog buzz
|
|
At the same time
|
|
Shorty can't remember what day it was
|
|
Say I'm yellin' is fact
|
|
Genocide kickin' in yo back
|
|
How many times have you seen
|
|
A black fight a black
|
|
After drinkin' down a bottle
|
|
Or a malt liquor six-pack
|
|
Malt liquor bull
|
|
What it is is bullshit Colt
|
|
45 another gun to the brain
|
|
Who's sellin' us pain
|
|
In the hood another up to no good
|
|
Plan that's designed by the other man
|
|
But who drink it like water
|
|
One and on till the stores reorder it
|
|
Brothers cry broke but they still affordin' it
|
|
Sippin' it lick drink it down oh nooo
|
|
Drinkin' poison but they don't know
|
|
It used to be wine
|
|
A dollar and a dime
|
|
Same man, drink in another time
|
|
They could be hard as hell and don't give a damn
|
|
But still be a sucker to the liquor man
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
MORE NEWS AT 11 -Drayton-Gary G-Wiz-Robertz-
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
Yo yo yo gee, guess what happened
|
|
To the burned up hand that was clappin'
|
|
Too good to be true
|
|
Getting all the guys turn to get in doo-doo
|
|
Took it all for granted
|
|
Then life start turn to granted
|
|
Having everything to having nothing
|
|
Now this turkey ain't got no stuffing
|
|
On the couch ill puffing
|
|
To get you buffin', it's you they got cuffin
|
|
Your family they did not believe me
|
|
Till they heard it for themselves on TV
|
|
I called the crib, the clock said seven
|
|
More news at 11
|
|
|
|
Chrous
|
|
More news at 11
|
|
|
|
I was watching the TV screen
|
|
Can't believe what I seen
|
|
Three guys tried to rob a store
|
|
Got more than what they bargained for
|
|
They shot them right before my eyes
|
|
All three just dropped like flies
|
|
If they only thought before they did it
|
|
Neither one of those three would have been with it
|
|
As they fell to the floor and got rougher
|
|
Now the family has got to suffer
|
|
Pallbearers got to carry them
|
|
While the family cry loud just to bury them
|
|
Newscast and people were heavily amazed
|
|
Flavor Flav just stared in a daze
|
|
Eyewitness News - channel seven
|
|
More news at 11
|
|
|
|
This is Harry Allen hip hop activist and media
|
|
assassin with my co-anchor Flavor Flav for P.E.
|
|
TV and by the way if you still think that they're that
|
|
don't believe the hype
|
|
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
SHUT EM DOWN -Ridenhour-Robertz-Gary G-Wiz-Depper-
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
I testified
|
|
My mama cried
|
|
Black people died
|
|
When the other man lied
|
|
See the TV, listen to me double trouble
|
|
I overhaul and I'm comin'
|
|
From the lower level
|
|
I'm takin' tabs
|
|
Sho nuff stuff to grab
|
|
Like shirts it hurts
|
|
Wit a neck to wreck
|
|
Took a poll 'cause our soul
|
|
Took a toll
|
|
From the education
|
|
Of a TV station
|
|
But look around
|
|
Hear go the sound of the wreckin' ball
|
|
Boom and Pound
|
|
When I
|
|
Shut 'em down
|
|
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
|
|
What I use in the battle for the mind
|
|
I hit it hard
|
|
Like it supposed
|
|
Pullin' no blows to the nose
|
|
Like uncle L said I'm rippin' up shows
|
|
Then what it is
|
|
Only 5 percent of the biz
|
|
I'm addin' woes
|
|
That's how da way it goes
|
|
Then U think I rank never drank, point blank
|
|
I own loans
|
|
Suckers got me runnin' from the bank
|
|
Civil liberty I can't see to pay a fee
|
|
I never saw a way to pay a sap
|
|
To read the law
|
|
Then become a victim of a lawyer
|
|
Don't know ya, never saw ya
|
|
Tape cued
|
|
Gettin' me sued
|
|
Playin' games wit' my head
|
|
What the judge said put me in the red
|
|
Got me thinkin' 'bout a trigger to the lead
|
|
No no
|
|
My education mind say
|
|
Suckers gonna pay
|
|
Anyway
|
|
There gonna be a day
|
|
'Cause the troop they roll in
|
|
To posse up
|
|
Whole from the ground
|
|
Ready to go
|
|
Throw another round
|
|
Sick of the ride
|
|
It's suicide
|
|
For the other side of town
|
|
When I find a way to shut 'em down
|
|
Who count the money
|
|
In da neigborhood
|
|
But we spendin' money
|
|
To no end lookin' for a friend
|
|
In a war to the core
|
|
Rippin' up the poor in da stores
|
|
Till they get a brother
|
|
Kickin' down doors
|
|
Then I figure I kick it bigger
|
|
Look 'em dead in the eye
|
|
And they wince
|
|
Defense is pressurized
|
|
They don't want it to be
|
|
Another racial attack
|
|
In disguise so give some money back
|
|
I like Nike but wait a minite
|
|
The neighborhood supports so put some
|
|
Money in it
|
|
Corporations owe
|
|
Dey gotta give up the dough
|
|
To da town
|
|
or else
|
|
We gotta shut 'em down
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
A LETTER TO THE NEW YORK POST -Drayton-Gary G-Wiz-Robertz-
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
Yo gee
|
|
Come and get your New York Post
|
|
New York Post right here
|
|
Come on y'all
|
|
Get the bost stubost stubost
|
|
Coasta coasta New York Post
|
|
Yo New York Post don't brag or boast
|
|
Dissin' flavor when he's butter that you put on your toast
|
|
Put my address in the paper cause I smacked that girl
|
|
She's the mother of my kid's that I took around the world
|
|
Disagreements having scuffles when you share upon
|
|
You shouldn't try to drain subjects in a duck pond
|
|
If you're gonna tell a story about people's worries
|
|
Watch what you tell 'em cause they don't bring you glory
|
|
It only brings agony, ask James Cagney
|
|
He beat up on a guy when he found he was a fagney
|
|
Cagney is a favorite he is my boy
|
|
He don't jive around he's a real McCoy
|
|
Chuck D yeah, you tellin' Flav we got to let 'em know
|
|
Here's a letter to the New York Post
|
|
The worst piece of paper on the east coast
|
|
Matter of fact the whole state's forty cents
|
|
in New York City fifty cents elsewhere
|
|
It makes no goddamn sense at all
|
|
America's oldest continuously published daily piece of bullshit
|
|
Flavor Flav is the one that makes The Post money
|
|
Writers making violence in headlines funny
|
|
Tryin' to undress my past until it's naked
|
|
Post got Flavor from sellin' no records
|
|
Europe Asia to the street of New York
|
|
Flavor Flav known for his finesse talk
|
|
Do it to ya for The Post to employ me
|
|
New York Post can't destroy me
|
|
Rapper of Public Enemy, rapstar beats lover
|
|
With the headline of a fucked up cover
|
|
Out the pot took plate New York Post
|
|
get your story straight motherfucker
|
|
It always seem they make our neighborhood look bad
|
|
Here's a letter to the New York Post
|
|
Ain't worth the paper it's printed on
|
|
Founded in 1801 by Alexander Hamilton
|
|
That is 190 years continuous of fucked up news
|
|
Yo one can play the game, two can play the game
|
|
Yo Flav read on can't forget you either Jet
|
|
Flavor Flav is your best Jet yet
|
|
My own people own the most business
|
|
Write on faith of value'sness
|
|
Should have checked with me before you wrote it
|
|
Got it from another source and quote it
|
|
Put it out like the new year bull drop
|
|
In every beauty parlor and barber shop
|
|
Flavor Flav world renown
|
|
Can't keep a man like Flavor down
|
|
Yo Jet be a good host
|
|
Don't print bull like the New York Post
|
|
Augh, looks like somebody slipped up here
|
|
Anyway here's a letter to the New York Post
|
|
Black newspaper and magazines are supposed to get
|
|
the real deal from the source y'all
|
|
Sorry, Jet you took the info straight out of The Post
|
|
Burned us just like toast
|
|
When it comes to getting you facts straight about P.E.
|
|
Get your shit correct
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
GET THE F---OUTTA DODGE -Ridenhour-Houston- (Featuring True Mathematics)
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
CHUCK D
|
|
|
|
I was wheelin'
|
|
Wit' the boom in the back
|
|
The treble was level
|
|
I like it like that
|
|
I was rolly-roll-a-roll rollin'
|
|
5-o looked and said hold it
|
|
And I stopped still
|
|
I never got ill
|
|
'Cause my license was clean an I showed
|
|
A peace powwow
|
|
Instead of pow pow
|
|
I'm straight up and I'm straight
|
|
So how you like me now
|
|
But I know how you do
|
|
You're straight from Babylon
|
|
But I know how you do
|
|
You're straight from Babylon
|
|
They said turn it down
|
|
'Cause it's a new law
|
|
You never seen us before
|
|
But we're raw like a war
|
|
They warned me once
|
|
They warned me twice
|
|
So I knew I was warned
|
|
They had it goin' on
|
|
I got the f--- outta Dodge
|
|
Wit' my Bronco
|
|
60 miles per hour
|
|
50 miles to go
|
|
And I be pumpin' the sound
|
|
Drownin' out the cars
|
|
Which tape should I rock
|
|
L.L.'s or R.A.'s
|
|
I'm in the streets of New York
|
|
(Go away)
|
|
So I pop in my Kool G Rap 'n' Polo tape
|
|
And they was at it again
|
|
Sirens in the air
|
|
Ahhh sh-t
|
|
So I'm outta here
|
|
But the blue in the front
|
|
Called the blue in the back
|
|
They cut me off
|
|
Stopped me dead in my tracks
|
|
But this is minimal
|
|
I'm not a criminal
|
|
I always did what I did
|
|
Because I'm not a kid
|
|
But they looked me down
|
|
They stared me down
|
|
Told me what I did
|
|
I ain't wit' it
|
|
'Cause word around town was a stickup
|
|
Yeah, yeah, yeah
|
|
B-boy niga in a pickup
|
|
But I was jeepin' and creepin'
|
|
Just a keepin' it down, sound
|
|
Here we go the run around
|
|
Blamin' me for the hardcore roar
|
|
But they the ones wit' the 44's
|
|
So I'm coolin'
|
|
I know the beat is rulin'
|
|
Too loud for the crowd
|
|
The bass is large yeah
|
|
So I'll get the f--- outta Dodge
|
|
That's right y'all, el commando
|
|
El commando you're in demand-o
|
|
|
|
SGT HAWKES
|
|
|
|
Sgt. Hawkes and I'm down wit' the cop scene
|
|
I'm a rookie and I'm rollin' wit' a swat team
|
|
Packin' a nine can't wait to use it
|
|
Crooked cop yeah that's my music
|
|
Up against the wall don't gimme no lip son
|
|
A bank is robbed and you fit the description
|
|
And I ain't your mama and I ain't your pops
|
|
Keep your music down or you might get shot
|
|
This is a warning so watch your tail
|
|
Or I'm a have to put your ass in jail
|
|
I'm the police and I'm in charge
|
|
You don't like it get the f--- outta Dodge
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
BRING THA NOIZE (WITH ANTHRAX) -Ridenhour-Shocklee-Sadler-Anthrax-
|
|
______________________________________________________________________________
|
|
|
|
Bass! How low can you go?
|
|
Death row what a brother knows
|
|
Once again, back is the incredible
|
|
The rhyme animal
|
|
The incredible D. Public Enemy number one
|
|
Five-O said "Freeze!" and I got numb
|
|
Can't I tell 'em that I really never had a gun?
|
|
But it's the wax that the Terminator X spun
|
|
Now they got me in a cell 'cause my records they sell
|
|
'Cause a brother like me said "Well
|
|
Farrakhan's a prophet and I think you ought to listen to
|
|
What he can say to you, what you ought to do"
|
|
Follow for now, power to the people say,
|
|
"Make a miracle. D, pump the lyrical"
|
|
Black is back, all in, we're gonna win
|
|
Check it out, yeah y'all, here we go again
|
|
|
|
Chorus
|
|
Turn it up! Bring tha noize!
|
|
|
|
Never badder than bad 'cause the brother is madder than mad
|
|
At the fact that's corrupt as a senator
|
|
Soul on a roll, but you treat it like soap on a rope
|
|
'Cause the beats in the lines are so dope
|
|
Listen for lessons I'm saying inside music
|
|
that the critics are blasting me for
|
|
They'll never care for the brothers and sisters
|
|
now across the country has us up for the war
|
|
|
|
We got to demonstrate, come on now, they're gonna have to wait
|
|
Till we get it right
|
|
Radio Stations I question their blackness
|
|
They call themselves black, but we'll see if they play this
|
|
|
|
Chorus
|
|
|
|
Get from in front of me, the crowd runs to me
|
|
My deejay is warm, he's X, I call him Norm, ya know
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He can cut a record from side to side
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So what, the ride, the glide
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should be much safer than a suicide
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Soul control, beat is the father of your rock'n'roll
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Music for whatcha, for whichin', you call a band, man
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Makin' a music, abuse it, but you can't do it, ya know
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You call 'em demos, but we ride limos, too
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Whatcha gonna do? Rap is not afraid of you
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Beat is for Sonny Bono, beat is for Yoko Ono
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Run DMC first said a deejay could be a band
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Stand on its feet, get you out your seat
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Beat is for Eric B, and L.L. as well, hell
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Wax is for Anthrax, still it can rock bells
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Ever forever, universal, it will sell
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Time for me to exit, Terminator X-it
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Chorus
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From coast to coast, so you stop being like a comatose
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'Stand, my man? The beat's the same with a boast dose
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Rock with some pizzazz, it will last why you ask?
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Roll with the rock stars, still never get accepted as
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We got to pleed the fifth, we can investigate
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Don't need to wait, get the record straight
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Hey, posse's in effect, got the Flavor Terminator
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X to sign checks, play to get paid
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We got to check it out down on the avenue
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A magazine or two is dissing me and dissing you
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Yeah, I'm telling you
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