Lift Your Fist Lyrics
| Song | Lift Your Fist |
| Artist | Guru |
| Album | Jazzmatazz, Vol. 3: Streetsoul |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Elam, Poyser, Thompson ... | |
| Guru: | |
| Yeah.. Guru, huh, The Roots | |
| Yeah, c'mon y'all uh, lift your fist | |
| Uhh, yeah, lift your fist c'mon | |
| (Uhh) | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Yo, c'mon | |
| We livin life close to the edge, don't push | |
| But this ain't eighty-three and it's not the Cold Crush | |
| It's kids on the street strapped, huffin that kush | |
| They eyein the next cat, livin all plush | |
| I guess frustration make a brother do what he must | |
| What's the combination that can make a human erupt | |
| Team leaders gettin mutinied up, who couldn't read | |
| The signs, thinkin the day and times is... | |
| Guru: | |
| Indeed, we blast, refuse to kiss ass | |
| Quick fast, ready to mash cause of a bugged out past | |
| Swallow the pain, follow the mental terrain | |
| It takes a hell of a man, nowadays to maintain | |
| Garments bloodstained, face bruised and battered | |
| Our eyes reflect the agony, of dreams that were shattered | |
| And they love it, when we wild out and kill our own | |
| But the greater responsibility, yes, is still our own | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Guru: | |
| Uhh, worldwide famine, ghetto people demand | |
| That somebody do somethin soon, and let's examine | |
| The facts, behind the violent attacks | |
| Behind the daily gunplay the cocaine and the crack | |
| Thug season - what's the reason for the treason? | |
| Everybody's gotta eat, some gotta resort to thievin | |
| Take money money make money money money | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Yo - from the time they eyes open til the clock strike death | |
| Brothers is stressed, walkin 'round holdin they chest | |
| They got the government surveyin they steps and can't breathe | |
| They dynamitin them projects to smithereens | |
| Money comin but them days too few and far between | |
| You tryin to taste just what the world's offering, ya'mean? | |
| I seen enough to make a grown man scream | |
| Brothers thirsty and hongry to get that thing | |
| Guru: | |
| Too many tears of pain, too many years of struggle | |
| Too many drops of blood, too many problems to juggle | |
| Too few jobs available, too few schools equipped | |
| Too few role models; just gangsters and pimps | |
| Will you succumb, will your heart grow numb | |
| Or will you save the world, and use your mind like a gun? | |
| I'm the one - I turn a stick-up kid to a soldier | |
| Me and The Roots, word up, we takin over | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Word up it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| How you want it, there's no peace, no justice | |
| From the bullet or even from the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| Lift your first | |
| Come on my people yo it ain't no peace, no justice | |
| Dig it, uh, uh |
| zuo ci : Elam, Poyser, Thompson ... | |
| Guru: | |
| Yeah.. Guru, huh, The Roots | |
| Yeah, c' mon y' all uh, lift your fist | |
| Uhh, yeah, lift your fist c' mon | |
| Uhh | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Yo, c' mon | |
| We livin life close to the edge, don' t push | |
| But this ain' t eightythree and it' s not the Cold Crush | |
| It' s kids on the street strapped, huffin that kush | |
| They eyein the next cat, livin all plush | |
| I guess frustration make a brother do what he must | |
| What' s the combination that can make a human erupt | |
| Team leaders gettin mutinied up, who couldn' t read | |
| The signs, thinkin the day and times is... | |
| Guru: | |
| Indeed, we blast, refuse to kiss ass | |
| Quick fast, ready to mash cause of a bugged out past | |
| Swallow the pain, follow the mental terrain | |
| It takes a hell of a man, nowadays to maintain | |
| Garments bloodstained, face bruised and battered | |
| Our eyes reflect the agony, of dreams that were shattered | |
| And they love it, when we wild out and kill our own | |
| But the greater responsibility, yes, is still our own | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Guru: | |
| Uhh, worldwide famine, ghetto people demand | |
| That somebody do somethin soon, and let' s examine | |
| The facts, behind the violent attacks | |
| Behind the daily gunplay the cocaine and the crack | |
| Thug season what' s the reason for the treason? | |
| Everybody' s gotta eat, some gotta resort to thievin | |
| Take money money make money money money | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Yo from the time they eyes open til the clock strike death | |
| Brothers is stressed, walkin ' round holdin they chest | |
| They got the government surveyin they steps and can' t breathe | |
| They dynamitin them projects to smithereens | |
| Money comin but them days too few and far between | |
| You tryin to taste just what the world' s offering, ya' mean? | |
| I seen enough to make a grown man scream | |
| Brothers thirsty and hongry to get that thing | |
| Guru: | |
| Too many tears of pain, too many years of struggle | |
| Too many drops of blood, too many problems to juggle | |
| Too few jobs available, too few schools equipped | |
| Too few role models just gangsters and pimps | |
| Will you succumb, will your heart grow numb | |
| Or will you save the world, and use your mind like a gun? | |
| I' m the one I turn a stickup kid to a soldier | |
| Me and The Roots, word up, we takin over | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Word up it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| How you want it, there' s no peace, no justice | |
| From the bullet or even from the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| Lift your first | |
| Come on my people yo it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| Dig it, uh, uh |
| zuò cí : Elam, Poyser, Thompson ... | |
| Guru: | |
| Yeah.. Guru, huh, The Roots | |
| Yeah, c' mon y' all uh, lift your fist | |
| Uhh, yeah, lift your fist c' mon | |
| Uhh | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Yo, c' mon | |
| We livin life close to the edge, don' t push | |
| But this ain' t eightythree and it' s not the Cold Crush | |
| It' s kids on the street strapped, huffin that kush | |
| They eyein the next cat, livin all plush | |
| I guess frustration make a brother do what he must | |
| What' s the combination that can make a human erupt | |
| Team leaders gettin mutinied up, who couldn' t read | |
| The signs, thinkin the day and times is... | |
| Guru: | |
| Indeed, we blast, refuse to kiss ass | |
| Quick fast, ready to mash cause of a bugged out past | |
| Swallow the pain, follow the mental terrain | |
| It takes a hell of a man, nowadays to maintain | |
| Garments bloodstained, face bruised and battered | |
| Our eyes reflect the agony, of dreams that were shattered | |
| And they love it, when we wild out and kill our own | |
| But the greater responsibility, yes, is still our own | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Guru: | |
| Uhh, worldwide famine, ghetto people demand | |
| That somebody do somethin soon, and let' s examine | |
| The facts, behind the violent attacks | |
| Behind the daily gunplay the cocaine and the crack | |
| Thug season what' s the reason for the treason? | |
| Everybody' s gotta eat, some gotta resort to thievin | |
| Take money money make money money money | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| Yo from the time they eyes open til the clock strike death | |
| Brothers is stressed, walkin ' round holdin they chest | |
| They got the government surveyin they steps and can' t breathe | |
| They dynamitin them projects to smithereens | |
| Money comin but them days too few and far between | |
| You tryin to taste just what the world' s offering, ya' mean? | |
| I seen enough to make a grown man scream | |
| Brothers thirsty and hongry to get that thing | |
| Guru: | |
| Too many tears of pain, too many years of struggle | |
| Too many drops of blood, too many problems to juggle | |
| Too few jobs available, too few schools equipped | |
| Too few role models just gangsters and pimps | |
| Will you succumb, will your heart grow numb | |
| Or will you save the world, and use your mind like a gun? | |
| I' m the one I turn a stickup kid to a soldier | |
| Me and The Roots, word up, we takin over | |
| Black Thought: | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| Seem like it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| To all my people, ball up your first | |
| Word up it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| How you want it, the bullet or the microchip? | |
| To all my people, just lift your fist | |
| How you want it, there' s no peace, no justice | |
| From the bullet or even from the microchip? | |
| Either way you got to lift your fist | |
| We get it down like this | |
| Lift your first | |
| Come on my people yo it ain' t no peace, no justice | |
| Dig it, uh, uh |
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