| Yo yo whassup Ice man you look upset brother
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| Yo man, I got a lot of things on my mind man
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| But I don’t know if I should put it on this record, yaknahmsayin?
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| Man go ahead and kick it man
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| Let the people know what’s happenin man
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| You know brothers out there sellin out man
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| Why they goin out like that man?
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| Yo, sellin out like it ain’t nothin man
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| I ain’t with it
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| Dig it, I’m just a brother from L. A
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| South Central, I live life the fly way
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| Used to bang and hustle but I traded for the big game
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| Infamy got dumped for fame
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| Now I’m known and respect as creator of the crime rhyme;
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| But my lyrics are deeper
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| Because I’m the one that makes you think before make a move
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| I wrote «Pusher», «High Rollers», and «Colors» just to prove
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| That I could kick game, and drop knowledge at the same time
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| But one L.A. station wouldn’t play my records one time
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| I’m tryin to save my community
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| But these bourgeoise blacks keep on doggin me
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| They don’t care about violence, drugs and gangs
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| KJLH, you ain’t about nuttin
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| You just a bunch of punk bourgeoise black suckers
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| And this one’s for me
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| You won’t play no Public Enemy
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| You ain’t playin no Boogie Down Productions
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| You ain’t tryin to represent the black community
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| You just carin about your little ol' R&B +BULL+
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| You play all day and night
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| I represent Los Angeles all over the United States
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| And you ain’t did NUTTIN for me
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| Think about it
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| Hold up, I ain’t finished on the diss tip
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| There’s a few more punks that I got to rip
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| All you chump MC’s who sell out quick
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| When P.E. |
| was on the top, you rode the tip
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| But now they got problems and you suckers run
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| Who’s Chuck’s real friends, does he really have one?
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| You yell P.E. |
| this, P.E. |
| that
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| Fist in the air, proud to be black
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| Now they got static and you run like punks
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| I haven’t heard an MC stand up for him once
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| Maybe you suckers are just hopin that they fall off
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| So you can fill their shoes, nope sorry boss
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| That’s what the matter with black people anyway
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| We ain’t down with nothin, I don’t care what you say
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| Yell or lie, don’t even bother
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| How low will a brother go for a dollar?
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| Public Enemy broke a new rap age
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| And now you rappers ain’t got nuttin to say?
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| «Yo it’s their problem» «Griff shouldn’ta said it»
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| E where’s my pistol? |
| (Yo I’ll go get it)
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| Cause it’s time for me to enforce some discipline
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| Are you down or not, are you out or in?
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| Chuck Flav and Griff are my true friends
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| I got their backs if it means my career ends
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| All you so-called down MC’s with Public Enemy
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| I ain’t heard nobody out there, tryin to help my man out
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| Griff is my man, I don’t care WHAT he said
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| And I ain’t gon' let them go out like that
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| Chuck, Ice got your back
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| Anybody out there got problems with Public Enemy, come talk to me
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| Once again, I’m back in the diss mode
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| I gotta speak my mind, it’s time to unload
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| On this so-called government we’ve got
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| If I lied like them, I think I’d get shot
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| They sell drugs to kids and say it’s us
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| And when the cops are crooks, who can you trust?
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| You only see young brothers in a drug bust
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| Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust
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| My homey got a year for an ounce of weed
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| While Bush sells weapons to the enemy
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| You gotta be stone blind not to see
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| «Our government is honest!» |
| Nigga, please
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| Cocaine can’t be made in the United States
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| Kickin facts like this our government hates
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| The young kids on the streets ain’t the enemy
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| They’re just ghetto youth after money
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| They sell drugs, but who sells drugs to them?
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| Try the C.I.A. |
| my friend
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| Or the F.B.I. |
| or even Bush
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| Somebody’s gettin rich, damn sure ain’t us
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| We’re just killin ourselves while others laugh
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| Look at the street, it’s a cocaine bloodbath
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| We gotta realize dope is pure death
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| Mess with drugs, you’re breathin your last breath
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| Sellin drugs is straight up genocide
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| They’re gonna laugh, while we all die
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| Sittin up there thinkin you’re makin that money
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| Hustlin and all that, you’re killin your brothers
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| YouknowhatI’msayin? |
| You just stupid, straight up stupid
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| Puttin dope into your body — c’mon, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| You gotta get somethin goin out there
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| Get some brains, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| We are just playin ourselves cold out of the pocket
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| This one’s for me, I make records for you
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| But this cut I straight out had to do
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| There’s topics in my mind I have to break
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| Cause so many of you out there are so damn fake
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| If ya ain’t know they’re no-one, cutthroats
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| Backstabbers, scheamin for banknotes
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| And all of you out there know what I’m talkin bout
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| If you claim you’re down then NEVER sell-out
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| Never sell out, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| You gotta stay down for yours
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| You know I want it, sure as I’m Ice-T
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| I make records for you, but this one’s for me
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| You know what I’m talkin bout out there
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| There’s ways to sell out left and right
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| But you ain’t got to do that
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| There’s things more important than money
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| I’m talkin bout pride, I’m talkin bout dignity
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| You got it out there
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| All you got to do is stand on your own two feet
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| Don’t go out like no sucker
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| Stay down, youknowhatI’msayin?
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| Peace |