Print

[Boots] In this land I can't stand or sit and not get shit thrown up in my face A brother never gets his props from doin' belly flops at the department of waste And everyday I pull a front so nobody pulls my card I gotta mirror in my pocket and I practice lookin' hard I'm lookin' behind me, beside me, ahead of me They'll be no feet makin' tracks here instead of me But I can't disregard just what the news says to me I'm twenty-one so I've reached my life expectancy At any minute I could be in some shit that kills my skinny ass From motherfuckers doin' the sellout strut or probably Oakland task Letras de cancionesMy relationship with OPD has been like one big dis Long arm of the law, grips my dick so tight it's hard to even piss So I forgot ain't even got to pot to do it in Up at the church they're tellin' me it's because I live in sin So I grin. But nevertheless my mind won't dwell I must be trippin' 'cause i thought I was livin' in hell Capitalism is like a spider, the web is getting tighter I'm struggling like a fighter, just to bust loose 'Cause like a noose asphyxiation sets in Just when i think I'm free it seems to be the spider steps in This web is made of money, made of greed made of me Or what I have become in a parasite economy [E-Roc] In the winter there's a spinner with the smell of the rain and the scent of the street, but all I smell is the pain of a brother who's a hustler, and he's stuck to the grime of a sister who's a hooker, got to sell her behind Desperation makes her brother get a little more bold The circumstance gets deeper when it's damp and it's cold So I spend my time thinkin' 'bout the ultimate gank Can I get my crew together, pull a move on the bank I'll be the picture perfect hustler for the piece of the pie But my daddy always taught me just to reach for the sky Now my dream and aspirations go from single to ho. As I realize there's a million motherfuckers in the cold No need to be told, 'cause when you got a million po' people Gettin' ganged by a few that are rich and evil But it's illegal to wonder how they live in fat One, two , three. Everybody get a gat [Boots] Niggas, thugs, dope dealers and pimps Basketball players, rap stars and simps That's what little black boys... are made of Sluts, hos and press they naps around yo' neck Broads, pop the couchies, bitches stay in check That's what little black girls, huh huh, are made of But if we're made of that who made us and what can we do to change us The oppressor tries to change us, here's a foot for his anus Well since the days when I was shittin' in diapers, It was evident the president didn't like us Assassination attempts I'd root for the snipers My teacher told me that I didn't know what right was Well she was wrong 'cause I knew what a right was and a left and an uppercut too I had a hunch a sucker punch is what my people got that's why I was constantly red, black and blue [Outro: E Roc, Boots] [E] Boots, Boots, Boots, you wanna throw some shots out? [B] Ay man I ain't done with my lyrics yet, that's not cool [E] Ay, but ain't this a freestyle? [B] Naw, this is not yet freestyle cause we not yet free [E] Hey we gonna throw some shots out anyway [guns are cocked] [B] Awright fuckit, who y'all wanna throw some shots out to? [E] Uhh whassup with that uhh Bill Clinton and Al Gore? [B] Aight, they the new masters up in the White House and everything Let's throw some shots out [E] Yeah [blam, blam blam] [B] Awright, what about Bush? He on the way out and everything but I think we need a goodbye for his ass *gun cocked* [E] Uh-huh [blam] [E] See-ya! [B] Awright, what about Ross Perot and the good ol boys? [guns cocked] [E] The who? [B] You know who they are, awright [blam blam, blam] [B] Ay what about Pete Wilson? (Whassup) That Pete Wilson motherfucker [E] Yeah whassup wit him? [B] Awright [blam] [E] Got him! [B] Awright, ay, the L.A.P.D., [guns cocking repeatedly throughout] The O.P.D., The Richmond P.D., Detroit P.D., ay [E] Ay fuck it, fuck it, the whole, the whole motherfuckin P.D. [B] Awright, load up [E] Yeah, here's a loaded club for yo' ass [semi-automatic] [B] Awright, cool -- ay, what about these skinheads? Ay check it out [E] I can't stand dem fools [B] Awright awright, load it up, load it up, awright, cool [semi-automatic] [E] Yeah, got em! [B] Ay, what about these sellout motherfuckers! [E] Who? *gun cocks* [B] You know these sellout motherfuckers -- Ellay DuHarris [E] Who else? [gun cocks] [B] Tom Bradley [E] Who else? [gun cocks] [B] David Dinkins, ay, line em up [E] Yeah be true to the game [blam blam blam blam] [B] Ay, we outta ammo, what we gon do? [E] Let's get the fuck up outta here [B] Aight cool, we out From Letras Mania