Artist: Ice Cube Lyrics
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Album: Track 8 on AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted
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All I hear is ************s rappin' succotash
Livin' large, tellin' me to get out the gang
I'm a *****, gotta live by the trigger
How the **** do you figure?
That I can say peace and the gunshots will cease?
Every cop killer goes ignored
They just send another ***** to the morgue
A point scored- they could give a **** about us
They rather catch us with guns and white powder
If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me
Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy
They kill ten of me to get the job correct
To serve, protect, and break a *****s neck
Cause I'm the one with the trunk of funk
And '**** tha Police' in the tape deck
You should listen to me cause there's more to see
Call my neighborhood a ghetto cause it houses minorities
The other color don't know you can run but not hide
These are tales from the darkside
You wanna free Africa, I stare at yuh
Cause we ain't got it too good in America
I can't **** with them overseas
My homeboy died over a key of cocaine
It was plain and simple
The 9mm went "pop" to the temple
"pop pop pop" was the sound I put the ***** down
And ran to the schoolyard bathroom
Looked in the trash can yo it had room
So I ducked my *** in it for a minute
Covered with trash I had to lay back
Mad as ****, thinkin' about the payback
Tonight the crew gonna have a little fun
I went home and cut the barrel of my shotgun
It's gettin' critical, I stole a 5.0
I let it go, drive real slow
I yelled out 'Ice Cube sucker'
The shot-gun kicked, and it murdered ************s
I told you last album
When I got a sawed off, bodies are hauled off
Its a shame, that *****s die young
But to the light side it don't matter none
It'll be a drive by homicide
But to me its just another tale from the dark side
Standing in the middle of war
In the middle we flex
When we die, we won't make Jet
+Ebony+ can't see to the light side
The term they apply to us is a *****
Call it what you want, cause I'm comin' from the coroner
Sayin my rhymes with a Ph.D.
Who's black, don't wanna role, sells his soul
Watch his head go rollin'
Who the **** are they foolin'?
Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes
Matches the color of the one on my face
As they wonder whats under my waist
Standin' on the verge of them gettin' brown
That's a fact got a fear on their bozack
Run, run, run, their *** off, they can not hide
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