Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song National Anthem, artist - Sir Mix-A-Lot. Album song Seminar, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.1988
Record label: American
Song language: English
National Anthem |
Huey B. Newton shot in cold blood in west Oakland |
Oliver North receives community service hours |
For selling weapons to known terrorists |
Tawana was brutally raped, but two fools said she did it to herself |
A six hundred million dollar stealth bomber fails to fly successfully |
And you say I should be proud of this song |
Think about it AMERICA! |
I’m living like hell in a world of death |
Protectors of the people wear bullet-proof vests |
Your little nephew, flipped him a Uzi |
Took to the streets, shot em up and then «Who me?» |
Locked in a trunk by Republican villains |
Pinstripe suits, experts at killin |
Civil war, but some want out |
Trapped in a box called the ghetto we shout |
Headin for the strip cuz the squares ain’t hip |
Sell a couple keys, make the home boys trip |
The president is a dope man’s friend |
The governments strong but the dope got in |
Punish the accused, but the trial was short |
A black man’s dogged in a all white court |
The jury dismissed, prosecutor says, «Can em» |
Now I’m ashamed of my national anthem |
The pentagon had a plan for a rescue |
They said intelligence never makes miscues |
The thirty-first was a day of death |
Lieutenant Colonel Higgins, you know the rest |
No negotions with a terrorist force |
But Iran’s still buzzin' offa Oliver North |
The Ayatollah’s dead but the hearts not gone |
The burning of the flag in Iran goes on |
Anti-American, we’re loved by few |
We pay big money to the ones that do |
The christian militia, they give us big knowledge |
But the pentagon messed up and wouldn’t acknowledge |
Ollie took orders from the number one man |
But the crap hit the fan and superiors ran |
Democrats tripped, the committee said can em |
Now I’m ashamed of my national anthem |
Am I a communist? |
No. But my brain ain’t slow |
Not long ago, Mix-a-Lot was po' |
Never helped out by the ones with clout |
I was mad at the world cause I felt left out |
Stealin hub caps, stereos, anything to get paid |
I realize I’m a modern day slave |
Posse downtown, the sight was set |
I saw my home boys mother with a buggy and a bag |
People walk by, laughin at poverty |
I looked in her face and I soon saw me |
College educated, but she can’t get a job |
The american dream once again got robbed |
Vietnam vets on the street, that’s a shame |
Fight for the man, and the man plays games |
Dogged by the hippies, dope smokin' critics |
You blame it on the soldier, but your government did it |
My national anthem |
My national anthem |
You gonna teach me now about the care and feedin of politicians |
Bolivia, Columbia, the CIA |
Any similarities, I won’t say |
But the dope gets in, uncut like P-Funk |
Headin over borders in a scent-free trunk |
Coffee over dope, but the dog can’t sniff it |
Remember that lady that was broke, she’s widdit |
Started with a key, clocked 17 G’s |
Then got another shipment, pure D |
Headin for Brumlen, the money was betta |
Rollin in a Porsche, in a cashmere sweater |
Crime, revenge, I’m tellin you this |
The people that laugh are the people that knows |
Her community complained, callin the police |
But where was the community when she was in the street |
Dope’s comin in, it’s killin em at random |
And I’m ashamed of my national anthem |
My national anthem |
My national anthem |
My national anthem |
I’m ashamed of my national anthem |