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Verse One: Ice Cube |
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Peace - don't make me laugh! |
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All I hear is motherfuckers rappin sucotash |
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Livin large, tellin me to get out the gang |
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I'm a nigga, gotta live by the trigger |
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How the fuck do you figure? |
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that I can say peace and the gunshots will cease?! |
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Every cop killer goes ignored |
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They just send another nigga to the morgue |
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A point scored- they could give a fuck about us |
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They rather catch us with guns and white powder |
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If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me |
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Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy |
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They kill ten of me to get the job correct |
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To serve, protect, and break a niggas neck |
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Cuz I'm the one with the trunk of funk |
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And 'Fuck tha Police' in the tape deck |
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You should listen to me cuz there's more to see |
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Call my neighborhood a ghetto cuz it houses minorities |
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The other color don't know you can run but not hide |
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These are tales from the darkside... |
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Verse Two: |
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You wanna free Africa, I stare at yuh |
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Cuz we ain't got it too good in America |
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I can't fuck with them overseas |
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My homeboy died over a key of cocaine |
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It was plain and simple |
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The 9mm went <pop> to the temple |
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<pop pop pop> was the sound I put the bitch down |
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And ran to the schoolyard bathroom |
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Looked in the trash can yo it had room |
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So I ducked my ass in it for a minute |
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Covered with trash I had to lay back |
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Mad as fuck, thinkin' about the payback |
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Tonite the crew gonna have a little fun |
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I went home and cut the barrel of my shotgun |
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It's gettin critical - I stole a 5.0 |
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I let it go - drive real slow |
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I yelled out 'Ice Cube sucka' |
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The shot-gun kicked - and it murdered motherfuckers |
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I told you last album |
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when I got a sawed off, bodies are hauled off |
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Its a shame, that niggas die young |
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But to the light side it don't matter none |
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It'll be a drive by homicide |
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But to me its just another tale from the darkside... |
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Verse Three: Chuck D |
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Standing in the middle of war |
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In the middle we flex |
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When we die, we won't make +Jet+ |
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+Ebony+ can't see to the lightside |
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The term they apply to us is a nigga |
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Call it what you want, cause I'm comin from the coroner |
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Sayin my rhymes with a Ph.D. |
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Who's black - don't wanna role - sells his soul |
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Watch his head go rollin |
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Who the fuck are they foolin? |
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Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes |
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Matches the color of the one on my face |
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as they wonder whats under my waist |
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[Standin on the verge] of them gettin brown |
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thats a fact got a fear on their bozack |
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Run, run, run, their ass off, they can not hide |
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Yet Cube, they can't fuck with the darkside! |
