| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops (Hold on!), no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| Police cars on fire in the streets
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| Tear gas and the dogs on a leash
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| The scene seem like somethin' in the sixties
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| They takin' knees like Monica Lewinsky
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| They beating women like Bobby did Whitney
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| That’s why the only blue we salute is to Nipsey
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| Juneteenth barbecue at the precinct
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| Hanging by the pigtails, burned down Wendy’s
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| Strange fruits still swingin' from the trees
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| White folks protesting 'cause they can’t leave
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| Try twenty-five to life, that’s a real quarantine
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| They just take the mask off when they can’t breathe
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| But we got officers knees in our esophagus
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| Face blue 'cause he running out of oxygen
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| Got his brains blew by one of his accomplices
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| Add you to the list of his accomplishments
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| He came forward in the night, now we’re mourning
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| Black fist up to no-knock warrants
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| But the fascism ain’t the only army warrin'
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| Look at the way the patriarchy took and tore him
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| Look at the blood, the streets filled with teardrops
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| I ain’t slavin' for 'em, I ain’t 'bout to share crop
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| Pissed off, my wrist lock in gridlock
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| I’m with this shits, nigga, 'til the bullshit stop
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more tears
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more tears
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| I’m tired of only seein' niggas at the funeral
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| Tired of learnin' my homie’s name at the eulogy
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| I’m tired of wearin' suits, man, this ain’t suitable
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| I’m tired of runnin', but the cops keep shooting me
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| Niggas dyin' and we still buyin' jewelry
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| Nigga, this ain’t the time for the tomfoolery
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| A sign of the times, shit ain’t what it used to be
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| I throw a hoodie on, look at what they do to me
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| .223 cocked, I don’t need a handout
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| This Wall Street, we done got a bailout
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| They try to tell us to believe in the government
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| But even when Barack is president, niggas had to sell rocks
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| One out of fifteen niggas in the cell block
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| The other fourteen, don’t nobody care about
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| I’m in the courtroom pullin' my hair out
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| 'Cause I get another year for each one of my dreadlocks
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| At times, you gotta fight back to get your life back
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| But if you fight back, you might get your life jacked
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| And just to fight back, you gotta have the right stack
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| 'Cause Johnny Cochran gonna hit you with the price tag
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| Malcolm X, Huey Newton, they don’t like that
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| Hell, hell nah, they don’t like that
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| First nigga try to hit me with a nightstick
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| I’m going for my clip, I ain’t goin' out like that
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more tears
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| No more teardrops, no more teardrops
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| No more teardrops, no more tears
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| Can you feel that pain? |
| (Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off)
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| Can you feel that pain? |
| (Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off)
|
| Can you feel that pain? |
| (Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off)
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| Say, «It's time for a change!"(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
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| Can you feel that pain? |
| (Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off)
|
| Can you feel that pain? |
| (Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off)
|
| Can you feel that pain? |
| (Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off)
|
| Say, «It's time for a change!»
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| I know I’m at war
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| All I ever wanted to do was live without fear
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| (All he ever wanted, wanted)
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| Now I’m all tied up (All tied up)
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| With nowhere to go (Nowhere to go, oh)
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| Spiritual negro, keeper of the cult
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| My heart and the Holy Ghost (I hear)
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| Of the long-forgotten South (I hear)
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| First I assert my memory, rockin' my moccasins (I hear)
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| They observed I had a cottonmouth, when I spoke (I hear)
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| I spit fire that was stored up in my bones, then I smoke (I hear)
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| Listen though, our skin-folk into kinfolk
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| That’s what I kept my dome on a swivel for in this, uncivil war
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| They want me to shut up and dribble more
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| Black soil, got rich from the dirt
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| Struggle, marriage, still engaged in combat
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| Looking for real armed men and I’m next
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| Turing Birmingham into a hot plate to feed my youngins
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| Indeed they dug it |