| Police enforcement, racial fever
|
| When they scarred my wrist it got deeper
|
| From the Windrush plot it got peaker
|
| When they shot Ahmaud it got realer
|
| Then it brought back visions of Eric
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| Like, look at that cop and where his knees are
|
| If you burn that house to the ground
|
| I’mma fan that flame 'til they can’t breathe either
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| I seen my dealer, to the left of me there with a teacher
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| To the right of me there with a wise man
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| And we all fight for the same reason
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| Talk of conscience, I’ve got a conscience but
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| Look at that cunt and what his knee done
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| I heard that he went round town with a make
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| Whites great again cap on in the evening
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| I know that my grandma’s reeling
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| From wherever she’s watching this
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| I know that my dead friend’s screaming
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| Tryna tell me had to stop this shit
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| Give me back my freedoms
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| These shackles where the locks don’t fit
|
| Eh, give me back my peoples
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| Or I’m coming with rocks and sticks
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| And they' comin' with shotties and AK’s
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| And we comin' with fingers that twitch
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| From a lifetime on the defensive
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| From some disgusting evil pigs
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| My nigga just came out the jailhouse
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| For one crime that he never even did
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| My next bro got locked 'cause of cocaine
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| Like they didn’t put the cocaine on his strip
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| And then you got man like OJ
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| Who don’t even wan' rep the ting
|
| You corrupted the mind of our idols
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| And distructed the lives of our kids
|
| And they don’t wanna see us in Parliament
|
| And they don’t wanna see us in flicks
|
| And they don’t wanna see us in public
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| And their whole body weight on our ribs
|
| And we scream but they just keep leaning
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| And we plea but the glove don’t lift
|
| And we beg and we cry and we suffer
|
| And somehow, the grudge don’t shift
|
| And it gets to the point of your lifetime
|
| Where you clock that you’ve got ONE to live
|
| So you grab suttin' heavy to the right of you
|
| Oh, look what it is it’s a stick
|
| And you run down the road to the protest
|
| With so much hate you could trip
|
| And you spray it at the nearest police
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| Like Liam Neeson but switched
|
| And the cops come now they got a reason
|
| And you’re locked up now you’re a myth
|
| Oh, now you’re a crazy black man
|
| Like you ain’t been tortured from a kid
|
| Like, you ain’t been tortured from a embryo
|
| Like you ain’t been tortured from a cell
|
| Like, you ain’t had the fear of a cell in your mind
|
| As a young black man that does well
|
| Let alone a black man with some issues
|
| Let alone a black man that fail
|
| Meanwhile you got Andrew and dem man
|
| Doing what they’re doing never went jail
|
| Police enforcement, racial fever
|
| When they scarred my wrist it got deeper
|
| From the Windrush plot it got peaker
|
| When they shot Ahmaud it got realer
|
| Then it brought back visions of Eric
|
| Like, look at that cunt and where his knees are
|
| If you burn that house to the ground
|
| I’mma fan that flame 'til they can’t breathe either |