| Cool-ass Al, he got a badge from the neighborhood yo
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| Fly police car, the ninety-two mod-el. |
| now check it out
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| Now Al used to rob, used to smoke, used to steal
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| And he rolled a mean game of dice
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| A factor boostin he was nice as he proved on the daily tip
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| At Macy’s, he and this kid up in Lacy’s
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| Throw his head to blow when he turned into a Fed
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| I seen him, one day, I tried to get inside his head
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| There’s two fit ill, Glock cops, with passion
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| Black shoes fit, like they was made, from ashes
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| Another brother, a sister or somebody’s pops
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| And when I see Al, he never stops
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| Unless it’s to make an arrest
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| He can’t kick it, unless he writes a ticket
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| He got a nasty way, attitude everyday
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| It makes me kinda mad cause I really can’t hit him
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| But brothers scheamin to get him
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| (Shoot 'im inna de busta bumba claat)
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| At any level the worst devil is a black one
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| And if you see one you gots to attack 'um
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| One day, I had the cell lit, up on Lewis Park
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| Cool Al appears, backs up, fresh Clarks
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| It’s a hot day black, and the sun’s beamin down
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| But I gotta get on the ground?
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| You’re, sworn to whitey, do you think that you’re mighty?
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| You take the honor of bein the black Bull Carter
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| It’s a shame cause use done out your righteous name
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| For a little rank and more fame
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| You’re whole style is chump, you forgot to use the pump
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| So instead of warnin brothers, better hide and take the picture
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| You know the brothers wanna hit ya
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| («Gimme a gat I’m bout to smoke this motherfucker!»)
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| So carry your gun, especially off duty
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| Don’t forget that there’s a price on the booty
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| Hidin upstate won’t make you safe
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| By the way, are you of Christian faith?
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| Then prepare to meet your Mystery, become a place in history
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| Force come shot down with some brothers from Uptown
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| And if we’re not totally through
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| Then you’ll be left black and blue
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| Man these black ones is just as bad as the motherfuckin white ones
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| They get a BULLSHIT badge, and think that they God
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| But yo I ain’t havin that shit, I put a hole in they fuckin ass
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| Then they see who’s God
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| Comin in our midst causin this motherfuckin confusion?
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| I send that ass back to the essence quick fast
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| I knew a cop named Roy, a good nigga boy
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| To pull the trigger on another brother was a joy boy
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| Didn’t give a FUCK if your face was black
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| He’ll blow out your back, and say you sold crack
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| He’ll see you in your car and don’t like your look
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| He got beef with gold teeth so now you’re a crook
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| Flash the lights, pull to the right
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| Put up a fight, well say night night, cause Roy boy might
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| Pull out the heater, for him there’s nuttin sweeter
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| Eight to your head, from his nine millimeter
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| Roy had a thing about young black males
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| He wanna see em dead or either locked in jail
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| Down with every drug bust, for him it was a lust
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| Kickin down doors is like dickin down whores
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| I remember when he was a rookie, a tough cookie
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| Beatin down kids for playin hookie
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| You see Roy is the type of ne-gro
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| With a alter-ego that’s illegal
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| He like shakin down niggas on the block
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| Take you face down, let you hear the sound of the hammer cock!
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| No need to fill out a report
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| Cause everybody know Roy doesn’t get caught
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| Now he’s feeling like Superman
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| To the trooper stand, with an Uzi in his hand
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| Now Roy’s gotta answer
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| The pig’s gonna get smoked like cancer, sticks
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| For all the tricks that Roy’s ever played
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| Toy with the wrong nigga, boy you get, sprayed
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| For all the fucked up shit, that you put a brother through
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| Black man, learn to love you
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| Cause even if you’re dead, me and my crew
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| Will beat you in your head, and leave your ass full of lead
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| Black and blue |