| (Peace, quiet and good order will be maintained in our city to the best of
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| our ability. |
| Riots, melees and disturbances of the peace are against the
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| interests of all our people and therefore cannot be permitted)
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| (The jury found that they were all not guilty, not guilty…)
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| (We've been told that all along Crenshaw Boulevard that there’s a series of
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| fires. |
| A lot of looting is going on. |
| A disaster area obviously)
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| (The jury found that they were all not guilty, not guilty…)
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| Make it rough
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| (A lot of activity continues here in this…) Make it rough
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| (We have sporadic fires throughout the city of Los Angeles)
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| Not guilty the filthy devils tried ta kill me
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| When the news get to the hood then niggas will be
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| hotter than cayenne pepper, cuss, bust
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| Kickin up dust is a must
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| I can’t trust a cracker in a blue uniform
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| Stick a nigga like a unicorn
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| Vaugn, wicked, Lawrence Powell, foul
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| Cut his fuckin throat and I smile
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| Go to Simi Valley and surely
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| somebody knows the address of the jury
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| Pay a little visit, «Who is it?"(Who is Ice Cube?)
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| «Can I talk to the grand wizard?"then boom
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| Make him eat the barrel, modern day feral
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| Now he’s zipped up like leather tuscadero
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| Pretty soon we’ll catch Sergeant Coon
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| Shoot him in the face, run up in him witta broom
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| Stick prick, devils ain’t shit
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| Introduce his ass to the AK40 dick
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| Two dazed niggas layin in the cut
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| To get some respect we had to tear this muthafucka up
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| Make it rough
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| I gotta Mac10 for Officer Wynd
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| Damn, his devil ass need to be shipped back to Kansas
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| in a casket, crew cut faggot
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| Now he ain’t nothin but food for the maggots
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| Lunch, punch, Hawaiin lyin
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| Niggas ain’t buyin
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| ya story bore me
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| Taerin up shit with fire, shooters, looters
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| Now I got a lap-top computer
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| I told you all what happened and you heard it, read it
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| but all you could call me was anti-Semitic
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| Regret it-nope, said it-yep
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| Listen to my big black boots as I step
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| Niggas had to break you off somethin, give Bush a push
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| But your National Guard ain’t hard
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| You had to get Rodney to stop me cos you know what?
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| We woulda teared this muthafucka up
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| Huh, make it rough!
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| Huh Muggs, make it rough!
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| It’s on, gone with the wind and I know white men can’t dunk
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| Now I’m stealin blunts
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| And it came from Betty Crocker, overweight and blacker
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| Don’t fuck with the black-owned stores but hit the Foot Lockers
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| Steal, muthafuck Fire Marshall Bill
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| Oh what the hell, throw the cocktail
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| I smelt smoke, got the fuck out, Ice Cube lucked out
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| My nigga had his truck out, didn’t get stuck out
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| In front of that store with the Nikes and Adidas
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| Oh Jesus, I ?? |
| Surplus got the heaters
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| Meet us so we can get the 9's and the what-nots
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| Got the Mossberg with the double eyed buckshot
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| Ready for Darryl and like Beretta wouldn’t say
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| Keep your eye on the barrel, a sparrow
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| Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time
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| But I’m rollin so that’s a fucked up slogan
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| The Hogan’s Heroes spotted the gorilla by the Sizzler
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| Hittin up police killer
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| The super duper nigga that’ll buck
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| We had to tear this muthafucka up so what the fuck!?!
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| Huh, make it rough!
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| Yo Muggs, make it rough
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| Huh, make it rough
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| Enough
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| (Not Guilty verdicts for Stacey Coon, Lawrence Powell, Timothy Wynd and
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| Theodore Vaugsinio, the four officers accused of beating motorist Rodney
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| King) |