| Bloods and Crips,
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| Act like kids
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| They always fightin' each other,
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| and I don’t like it
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| I see them hatin' on each other, and it’s sad, bro
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| That’s why I got a red shirt, and blue pants on
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| I wanna make nice,
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| Between Bloods and Crips
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| They could work out,
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| through their tons of differences (See, I like red and you like blue)
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| They’re the same thing,
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| But they fight in every state
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| Except Connecticut
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| But that’s like the fucking whitest place
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| I never saw why,
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| Bloods don’t get along with Crips (along with Crips)
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| They should be thinking about uniting
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| Let’s be friends! |
| (Yeah)
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| And I’ll be wearing red kicks, with blue tube socks
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| Bloods and Crips,
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| Should all sit down,
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| And talk their problems out (There's pizza!)
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| Crips and Bloods get along (Crips and Bloods should get along)
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| just drop the guns,
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| And play basketball
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| Put down the guns (it could be fun)
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| Crips and Bloods
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| All calm down
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| I mean, c’mon, what you fightin' for?
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| Let’s go, come on
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| Put down the gun!
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| I really wanna,
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| Hear a Crip say «Ya'll can wear red, and sling a couple bitches on my turf
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| today»
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| I’d love to see you assholes agree
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| Bloods and Crips don’t have to fight (Don't have to fight)
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| I would even say it to their face,
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| But then I would get shot (Oh yeah i so would get shot)
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| They would beat my ass up
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| Bloods and Crips would blast me,
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| If I tried to spread peace in the hood
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| But if that would unite them,
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| 'Cause both of them don’t like me
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| Wouldn’t that be good,
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| then maybe I should
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| Go in the city
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| and take a bullet
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| And win the Noble prize for peace,
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| I think i would at least win some bullshit hippie-shit prize
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| Cuz imma be the corpse to finally unite the-
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| Crips and Bloods get along (Crips and bloods should get along)
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| Just drop the guns
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| And play basketball
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| Put down the guns (it could be fun)
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| Crips and Bloods
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| All calm down
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| I mean, c’mon, what you fightin' for?
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| Let’s go, come on
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| Put down the gun!
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| My name is Rucka Rucka Ali
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| And I’m some sort of cracker
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| Wierd Al couldn’t say half the shit that I said
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| You call me racist on Serchlite TV
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| Well, first of all, I think that I am Chinese
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| MC Serch’s passed out
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| He blacked out, laughin'
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| Please stop askin' him why he co-signed my stupid ass
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| Jeez, lighten up, you sensitive pricks
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| Ayo, Paul Bakes yo girl has seen my dick
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| They pay me by the click,
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| So ya’ll can keep on talkin' mad shit
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| Spendin' hours trashin' my ass, while I cash in
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| Everyone goes «Yo, get out yo mama’s attic»
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| You always stay at home too if folks wanted to blast you
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| I can do whatever I like
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| Whether I’m black or whether I’m white
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| I run red lights, It’s an old habit
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| I smoke crack and I let babies play with matchsticks
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| Yo ladies stop yo antics
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| Don’t make me smack a bitch
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| I blow up China, Filipino faggots Herro!
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| get off the set of Home Alone,
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| Michael Jackson
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| Am I black? |
| Or from Iraq? |
| Or Alaskan?
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| I think my race is unknown,
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| so stop askin!
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| Crips and Bloods
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| Let’s get along
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| Just drop the guns
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| And play basketball
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| Put down the guns
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| Crips and Bloods
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| All calm down
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| I mean, c’mon, what you fightin' for?
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| Let’s go, come on
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| Put down the gun!
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| Crips and Bloods… |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Crips & Bloods , by - Rucka Rucka Ali. Song from the album I'm Black, You're White & These Are Clearly Parodies, in the genre Альтернатива