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(Paris) |
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Come, I'm P-Dog, with the shit |
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that stick, now I'm fin' to get scandalous |
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Huh, and tell y'all about a brain disease |
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A act up it's a shame disease |
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Nigga please, you still don't act right up |
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Wait a minute, let me get my facts right |
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When I say that we all don't act the same |
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Just a handful wanna salt the game |
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So I gotta roll deep |
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Check your grip and don't smile, hard as concrete |
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Damn shame but it's like that |
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Cause some got hardheads like bricks that don't crack |
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Raised up on TV |
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Fast food and fast times, do or die G |
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Without nuttin to lose but a war |
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And here life don't mean SHIT to die for |
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{*scratched Chuck D: "Every brother ain't a brother"*} |
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(Paris) C'mon, yeah |
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{*"Every brother ain't a brother"*} |
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(Paris) B'le dat! |
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{*"Every brother ain't a brother"*} |
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(Paris) Sellin your soul, don't sell your soul man, yo |
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{*"Every brother ain't a brother"*} |
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{*"You got my back and I got yours"*} |
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(Paris) |
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The reporter looked just like me or you |
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But that don't mean the man was cool |
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He understood when I said that it was death to intergrate |
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Cause intergrate means assimilate (word!) |
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But the media, hate the youth |
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Love to spread lies and distort the truth |
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They say the pen is stronger than the sword |
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but the sword'll give any house nigga his just reward! |
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So let the beat just roll on, huh |
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While the weak get told on |
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I'm P-Dog, tellin you the actual fact |
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is just cause the skin is black don't mean shit! |
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It ain't about us comin up |
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To them, it's about us gunnin up |
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It's a shame but no strain on the brain to see |
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It's plain, some, are sleeping with the enemy |
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C'mon! |
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Yeah |
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Yeah! |
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(Paris) |
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Boom, another knocked out, what's it all about |
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Gotta give a shout to the few that's never sellin out |
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P-Dog, I never slipe or slide, I never float along |
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As long as in control I know I'm born to be a martyr |
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Huh, and I'ma keep on rappin with |
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The facts, that I keep on smashin shit |
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No props cause it doesn't really matter bout the color of the cop |
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And now I hate police so I won't stop |
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See the punk bitch get mad, huh |
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I ain't the one for a toe tag |
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You best believe when you see me on the street |
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I be a motherfucker ready for the static with a glock automatic! |
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So let me tell you why I hate pigs |
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The black gestapo, ultimate house nigga |
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Simply because a brother wantin to be with a plan |
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that wanna kill off and cage the black man |
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Ain't never runnin from the U.S.A. |
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Punk, land of the weak, freak, home of the slave |
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And I ain't goin to Clarence cause the appearance is clear to me |
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Some punks, are sleepin with the enemy |
