Public Enemy Album

Whole lotta love goin on
In da middle of what?
Say what?
What's goin on?

I leave em home alone
Dey turned into danger zones
Studio shootouts, leavin no doubt
In da eyes of the wise
About the other guys

Fantasi n gettin nat rep
Makin you move
While they disturb the groove
Now the partys over ooops!
Outta time
Yo my brother can you spare a crime
Some wanna take me out
I even call em my own
(can't we all just get along? )
Rap iz a contact sport
Can I get support
When I hum to da maximum
What I talk is straight
From da sidewalk strong

The velt new york


112 beatz a minute
An I'm flowin in it
Have no mercy
On da ones that curse me

And when I'm in da paint
The feuding might be over
But the fussin aint
Some hate the way I say em
Cause I block em like
Zo to da am
Beginning of an end of an error
Incredible shrinking race

Fiend without a face
Still got love for em
But some ain't got love
For the rest of us

So my boys get iller than
Illinois (terminator)
Return to da noise

I'd rather fall off
Than fall victim of crime
And a low percentage rhyme
If I go down they goin wit me
So come and get me...c'mon

[No lyrics]

(Flavor Flav vocals in these brackets)
{crowd chant vocals in these brackets)

Intro: Chuck D, Flavor Flav

Aight {aight}, aight, aight {aight}, aight {aight}
I'm aight if you aight {I'm aight}
I be better - get some of that bass
{word, give it up} aight, yeah

(Rinkin twinkin body shakin
Nuff attackin brain's a rackin
Clock tockin Chuck shockin
Flavor Flav ain't never shavin)

(one, two, three four)

Verse One: Chuck D

It's another record, check it, mad methods
To put my brothers and sisters on a deathbed
You know he cheated, took what he wanted but now you blunted
Suckin up to the devil steppin down a level
It's who they fear is you
Who protects us from us and you from you
Yes and it counts (fuck the fourty ounce)
I sued them bastards, yeah they got bounce
I did em like a demo {threw em out the window}
I took a 98 cause I never liked a limo
But pump pump pump pu-pump pump it up
A mad rhyme, for mad times, that's what's up
Some ain't gonna change, I got em in a range
I gotta rearrange, so I'm buildin back your brain
Wreckin records with funky stuff
Am I loud enough? {yeah} You got ta give it up

Chorus: Flavor Flav

Give it up, give it up, give it up yo repeat
Give it up, give it up, gotta give it up / 4 times

repeat #2 -- (occasional) Chuck D vocal

yeah
you gots ta give it up now

Verse Two: Chuck D

Come again with the same old bounce
I'm calling a foul and once again it counts
Mad tense mad tense brothers know
The blunts in the back got the black behind and that's wack
(And once again it's on!)
Hey Jimmy cracked corn cracker singin "I don't care", it's on
I'm comin with a rhyme (what?) I'm lettin go a rhyme (yeah!)
I gotta get a rhyme through the rough and crazy times
Call me a Hannibal lecture, yes I checked her
They don't hear me though, so here I go
I'm sick and tired so Sly'll take ya higher
When I'm takin his sound to bring you down
Rappers rippin a lyrical kickin finger-lickin
But to the rhythm I'm givin but never cotton pickin
Like James Brown I'm sayin it loud
Am I loud enough? Huh, you got ta give it up

(Some ain't gonna change, some ain't gonna change
Some ain't gonna never ever change
Some ain't gonna change, some ain't gonna change
Some ain't gonna NEVER EVER change!)

Chorus (1/2X)

Interlude: Chuck D, Flavor Flav

And when I'm coming, some young dumb and fulla cum
Some second guessing my lessons about saving young
Some don't know like Run said so here we go
Where it is inside, whoop there it is
{aaaaaaah} There it is
(There it is, damn right
My man X is a bad mother {shut your mouth)
I'm talking about Terminator, he's the man)
There it is, can you hit me off with another one

Chorus

I never did represent doing dumb shit
Some gangsta lying - I'd rather diss Presidents
Dead or alive, bring em and I'll swing em
I vocalize, I just rap, I don't sing em
Flick em, and I fling em, you can go with em
Hall of Fame for the game for the points I Dave Bing em
Go Grandmama, close but no cigar
I got mine, for I'm using my rhyme
The flow go wherever I want, and that's clever
Give a piece of my time, to prevent some crime
And who behind puttin the guns to the young ones
The ones that make em is the ones that take em
Rugged for no reason, down in duck season
I don't want my mama, on the street wearing armor
So check yaself before ya wreck yaself
Respect yaself, hah, you got ta give it up

Chorus (4X) (fades out)

It's overtime
So the lyric
They fear it
When they hear it
The flow
100 miles and runnin
Get near it
And go
Check it out
Go
To the race
Give the drummer a taste
The bass iz commin commin
Suckas runnin from it
Damn, why you call him
The man
Here I am scramm
Never ran
Never fight the black
From Iraq
Or Iran
Who bombed Japan
Blood on his hands
Part of a plan
He don't really believe
In uhh! God damn

If it comes down to shuttin
Them down
I'm in the hood surrounded
Tell em I'm grounded
I'm on that psycho analytical
Tip if politics iz stickin to
The mix
Like tricks
I'm one more time givin time
Where the rhyme go
Elite to the street
To the brothas doin death row
So where ya at
If the beat ain't fat
Say what

C'mon
And get some
Rattle rattle
Kiss and I hum
Come can you
Get it on the one
C'mon pick it up
pick it at
pack it at
pack it up
To the black
Who be talkin
Where they at
Where they at
Wicked wild
Feelin irie
Not sorry
Get it see it written down in a diary
Same say fuck all dat
Political shit
But wanna get paid when
Their brains in the second grade

Nowhere to run/here they come come
Nowhere to run/here they come come

I'm a fan first
I reverse another trick verse
To the point
Where I can rock dis funky joint
In the brain game, I'm keepin my head clear
In 33 years so what
I never had a beer
I don't know what I'm missin
I'm not dissin
But I know I ain't ass kissin
Time to draw the line
This time the rhyme
Got da good guy goin gettin da nine
Cause I know the hoody
Got it good wit the hitman
Can I get a hitman
Know I'm duckin nat quicksand
The funky automatic
Handlin static
Sellin out I ain't good at it
& when I got bumbed
I'm gonna open up
Hitt em up stone to da bone
But it ain't gotta be like that

And thats that
Can u tell me yall...what
All in wit the law
They fall in
The great white hole where they
Be sellin their soul
Never get enough
They be talkin dat roughneck shit
Be comin they quit
Fuck dat blood iz ticker
Than water shit
That shit iz counterfeit
Devil go where da shoe fit
Black mans law iz raw like Africa
You violate
Were comin after ya

They're here

Huffed and he puffed
Huffed and he puffed
Blew tha house down
Now how dat sound
Never no never
Give up gotta gotta live up
To my name
Triple double in da rap game

Cause I ain't goin niggatronic
Smart enough to know I ain't bionic
Wit my main man Harry
Not Connick
Rather rap my black ass off
Getcha hooked on phonics

Good enough to know no endo
Thru it out tha window
Along wit tha Super Nintendo

I'm a strict daddy
Got dat right
God damn right
But have a good time/Dyn-o-mite
It's just that I don't talk
That same ol crap (shit)
Cause Papa got a brand new
Bag fulla rap (hitz)

The world don't work no more no more
The world won't work no more
Ain't gonna work no more no more

My main knick knack paddy wack
C'mon and give a damn
Confrontational man
Is what I am
Is what I am
I'm tearin down da house that Jack built
Cause he killt whoever he wanted and hunted
And tax the backs of the environment macks
Who plan in da silence of the skams
A world dat won't work
No more/no more

Mother earth gets treated like a whore

And he doeth great wonders
So that he maketh fire come
Down from heaven on the earth
In sight of men

Toms to the left of me
Bombin to the right
World good night
He got destruction
In his appetite

On a platter a planet
To him it doesn't matter
3-2 at the plate
Up go the greedy batter

Environmental alarm
To all not some
Good God
'Cause we don't get two of em

I was told that oil and water don't mix
But the new world order
Got a disorder
And so I diss
Cuss my disgust
If I must
One earth is da birth outta all of us
And so I diss
After the math
Disaster wit a European autograph

Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Da trigga is cocked
Nowhere to flock

Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Pass da word
F what you heard

Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Glock is cocked
Now drop da props
Gonna be bedlam
If we spread em
The day the whole world couldn't do it

Repent
Oh no!
Check the preacher what he spent
One way ticket to God to fix scars
Woman and man runnin the land, sea and air poor
Do we all go the way of the dinosaur? or
To hell and back attack
The new clear fog got us sniffin like
Atomic dogs
Pocket fulla pimp daddy moves
Put a code on a can
Whatta hell of a man, shootin
Trigga pollution, planet prostitution
Uprootin da third
We go to the way of the bird
Can't do whatcha want to da place
Don't waste my place
Where you from?
We only got one

Full fledgin never sat on my legend
No shuffle or shoulder shruggin
Uncle Tommin nickel and dime rhymin
This renegade rippin
Rugged tracks I love it
Sorta black owned
Like da denver nuggets
Pow pow
The original
Harder hitter
Is back in black
On deck wit a turtleneck
Uh ha you can drink
All you want
But hard don't make


Da liquid matter you intake
The logical
Sorta psychological
Brother like butter spread to one
Another
Thicker da blunt and got sicker
Once upon a rhyme all bigger
Meant was for bigga cotton picker
Leave alone
The men from the mice
Who twice packs da gatt
Turn into dirty ratts
I'm comin wit the antidote, I hope they cope
To da rhythm I wrote
Pawns in da game
Goin down da drain
Final call to my race in pain

Yo another day
Another 49 cents

Mr., Mr., why you always tryin to take all our money

Because I am the government
And you have to pay

Stop tryin to take our money

Yo, you gotta bust this
We want justice
From public enemy number one
To cant trust this

Like F Jim or Hyatt
Because we're sick and fuckin tired
Of being mistreated by the undefeated
Power to the seat that cant be beat
Probably gone is the head that make Clinton defeat
Do all the talkin
Plus crooked walkin
Blind to the fact
That the enemy is stalking
Ways for days
Search United States quite
Were not a full power
Cause the racial riot
In my neighborhood
We attempt to kill each other
Politics said fuck power to the brother
Be strong be righteous
Dont be no sinister
I got the word from bro. minister (minister)
Farrakhan speaks
And so does Muhammad
The days of Ramagon is
Protect you can harm it
My statement is the fact
To the highest degrees
Flavor works this style, yo cant touch me

What kind of power we got
Soul power (8X)

Bring it on (I know you got soul)

Goin on it get it
Gotta get it on
Goin on it get it
Gonna get it on (4X)

Yo, some seek stardom
And forgot all about Harlem
Yo, fugess
Rock the house!

Now I dont know
But tell me what you gonna do
When the ending of time comes near
What ever you do
It's gotta be funky
I am not tryin
To put your life in full of fear
By the favor skies
We are flying
Truth we be buying
To buy out all the lying
How you livin
Were you livin
Were you livin
It aint got to be like that
By doing the givin
It was your own choice
Scratched up your Rolls Royce
Every dum friend you had
Was glad to rejoice
And turned into a nut
Trying to make the pockets fatter
One shoot in the head
Everybody scatter
The worlds gonna
Catch on fire
A funeral buyer
Is a hard heads people desire
Every night you tryer
You turn into a cryer
Who was just in bed
Thinkin higher, higher
Friends will always move
Till you get the bob wire
Ever common law gets a flat tire

What kind a power we got
Soul power (4X)

What kind a power you got
Soul power (2X)

What kind a power we got
Soul power

Take me on

Goin on it get it
Gotta get it on
Goin on it get it
Gonna get in on (4X)

You check this out
My partner Chuck D
Got all the ozs of knowledge, wisdom and understanding
A, yo Chuck
Let 'em know why you the
Prophet of rap
Kick that shit Chuck

Some people, people
Dont like the way Flavor walk

Come on we want all the people to check it
Out and listen to it good listen to the man

That's my partner partner

Some people, people
Don't like the way the Flavor Flav talk

But ladies and gentlemen
I like for you to know
This my main man throwing down

What kind a power we got
Soul power
What kind a power you want now
Soul power
What kind a power need now
Soul power
What kind a power you got now
Soul power
Know you gots to have it
Soul power
I check the soul
And you want some
Soul power
What kind a power we got now
Soul power
Now I know you got soul ya'll
Soul power
What kind a power we got ya'll
Soul power

Yeah!!!!!

I know the Flava got soul
I know you gotta have soul
What kinda power you got ya'll
What kinda power we need ya'll
Of course I know you got Flava
And the Flava got soul
What kind a power we got
Soul power

No cursing
Only versing
And if it aint better
Then we make it worsen
All that!!!!

Rock the house ya'll
Come on!

Talkin dat drive by shit
Everybody talkin dat gangsta shit

Talkin dat drive by thang
Everybody talking dat gangsta swang

Slaves to the rhythm of the master
Buck boom buck another
Neighborhood disaster
(Drummer hit me one)

A gun is a gun is
A mother fuckin gun
But an organized side
Keep a sellout nigga on the run

What you gonna do to get paid
Step on the rest of the hood
Till the drug raid

See you runnin like roaches
Black gangstas need track coaches

The white law set you up raw
When you have his trust in killin us

Talkin dat gattalk
Walkin dat catwalk
Where you tryin to go wit dat
Don't even go dere wit dat rap
Guns drugs an money
All you know how
So whatcha gonna do now?

I'm bout ready to bounce

Trouble on the corner of Blunt Ave.
An 40 ounce

Mad uncivilized lifestyles
30 years bids for kids, now that's wild

I'm raisin my child
I'm steppin to da curb
Wit a sign do not disturb

Too much don't give a fuck
Or a damn thing
But choose what the other man bring

I sing a song cause I see wrong

I'm not down with the fe fi fo
Where I come from
See, the brothers ain't dumb

Sense goes over nonsense
When it makes no sense
I'm throwin up da fence

Talkin dat drive by shit
Everybody talkin dat gangsta shit
Talkin dat drive by thang
Everybody talkin dat gangsta swang

Talkin dat gattalk
Walkin dat catwalk
Were you tryin to go wit dat
Dont even go there wit dat rap
Guns, drugs and money
All you know how
So whatcha gone do now?


The only good nigga is a dead nigga

Dat's what they used to say

Can't understand why a man
Gotta use a trigga
On his own, suppose to act grown

Cracka in da back
Watch a brother pull a trigga on another brother

Couldn't shoot and shot a mother

Four kids alone home
Ungrown and now they on they own
Now check yourself cool
What good is da hood if ya actin a fool
Talkin dat gattalk, walkin dat catwalk

This is for the ones that do it
This is for the ones that tell
This is for the ones thats scared
White mans heaven is a black mans hell

This is for the ones that take em
This is for the ones that sell
This is for the ones that OD

This is for the ones on the corner
This is for the ones in the cell
This is for the ones under the ground
White mans heaven is a black mans hell

Black history - white lie
Black athletes - white agents
Black preacher - white Jesus
Black drug dealer - white government
Black entertainers - white lawyers
Black monday - white Chistmas
Black success story - white wife
Black police - white judge
Black business - white accoutants
Black record co - white distribution
Black comedians - white media
Black politicians - white president
Black genocide - white world order

So whatcha sayin

White man's heaven is black man's hell

Microphone check
Microphone check

Can I get a check up from the neck up
Can I kick a rhyme
While I'm checkin my time
Can I get a cure
Cause you did da crime
For sure
You're

Probably killin me
Wit these shots

Tell me what I got
And I'm gone

Pandemic
Who did it
Right who did it
That's who did it

WHO/World Health Organized
Murderized

Came to the aid got paid

Doctor doctor in a lab
Concocted a germ warfare to the botty
I rocked it

105 million goin down
In da ground

Most in da black an da brown
Ow!

How did I catch this riddle
If I didn't crossover
Like a Hardaway dribble

They blamed it on some
Green African money

Now ain't that funky

While da clock
Is doin da tickin and tock

I didn't know

Dat da guns aimed and cocked

We're runnin outta
Time
time
Rage against

Testin 1 - 2
Testin 1 - 2

Can I get a blood check testin 1 - 2

Can I get a witness? (Yes, you can)
Can I get a witness? (Yes, you can)

Then check it

I'm checkin records and facts
About da battle
To da Indian, Japanese
Whites and blacks

Germs they spread it
Warfare I read it
Quote me on this yes and I said it
Bet it

Bigger damage than the trigger and glocks
Mass murder in mass from a
Blanket full a small pox

No guarantees gettin lesser fees
In Tuskegee blacks got shot
Wit disease

Please check da time
C'mon check da rhyme

Tribe a mine killed by da swine

Who crossed da line?
Who did da crime

The mind of a world destroyin kind

We're runnin outta
Time
time
Rage against time

Oh
Ey


A lil piece of mind
While we runnin outta time
People of color
Goin out like no other kind
Mad drama genetic gettin wreck
Protect da neck check the epidemic
Drug use, addiction and murder
I heard a pregnancy
Infant mortality
Rest in poverty
Not piece
Disease till deceased
Sterilized
Realized
That beast
So here's a word to the wise
We're runnin outta
Time
Time

Little piece of my heart like Janis
No Joplin
But pure hip hoppin
As they try to ban us
Crazy flight time no jacket
Or ticket
Wilson Picket had soul
Fat trax so the rappers
Can kick it
Alan freed the waves
As much as
Lincoln freed da slaves
Its here I bleed and some
Bled until dead
I got the rhythm from this
Headbanger
Who used to fly high
Now he's just hangin in da hanger
Hangin around homeless
In a city of no hope I can't cope
Just to think
See they used to call it dope

We got so much soul
You can damn near see it
Spinnin on a 45
I've come to the conclusion
Clear the confusion
My point is to rock
Dis funky joint
Don't you know
I got tangled
In the Star-Spangled Banner
In the middle of Alabama
Or was it Tennessee or Arkansas
New York and Cali got the same
Amount of race rallies
I know they wanna hang me
Straight around the neck
So I'm knockin off the hand checks
So you can
When I say what it is
It ain't nutting but a song

Krackas, killas, kidnappas
KKK tries to blame it on the rappers
They don't count the ones
That bounce to the 40 ounce
Or the runts dat get stunted
By the blunts
This time I'm gonna take it down the line
To the ones that are ready
They be holdin it steady
When a song so wrong
So many be singin it
Strangled tangled
Caught in a Spangled
Banner got em on dat camera
Stars I'm seein from
A beatdown in a slamma
Oh say can you see
But you can't
Uncle Sammy wears the pants
Tom's his bitch
When he's swingin a switch
Rather stick da poor up
And give it to da rich
I always thought dat power
Was to the people, we the people
Oh say can I see we ain't people

When I pledge allegiance
I shoulda got a sticka
1st grade/2nd grade
I shoulda just kicked a
Verse in the middle of class
Instead of singin bout bombs
Like a dumb ass
Land of the free
Home of the brave
And hell with us niggas we slaves
That shoulda been the last line
Of a song that's wrong form to get
So when everybody stand
I sit

The red is for blood shed
The blue is for the sad ass songs
We be singin in church while white man's heaven is black man's hell
The stars what we way when we
Got our ass beat
Stripes whip marks in our backs
White is for the obvious
Ain't no black in that flag

Live And Undrugged Part I

It's been a long time
Since the rhyme rode
A rough road
I'm riding rhymes and; givin'
A dose of brotherland
Never said I wasn't good at it
Cause I'm a static addict
No fear you gotta
Know I had it
If you know better
Suppose to do better
So I know like Al Green
We gotta stay together

Knock, knock...who's there
Where? overhere
Da boom kids knockin'
Bang and they outta here
The dopeman's livin' at home
Aloneman
They don't understand
But they can
They can can
If I don't say it
I'm a sucka parlayin it
Don't really matter
When the flow fatter

But I don't don't
Believe
And duck bob an weave
Will deceive a street corner
And the 40 thieves

They bring em in
You do em in
He bring em in
You do us in

Smell em knockin da/boom
Hear em hittin nat/boom

I'm comin atcha
Live and uncut
An undrugged
These days they be thinkin I'm bugged
Livin I be kicken it

Hard instead of lickin it
Down domination on the overground

Tell me what we be
Seekin is self preservation
A nation of millions
Gotta go wit a feelin
Uncle Sam be gatt Uncle Tom
And when it comes to drugs
Uncle Tom gotta bomb
Can I get a pop
Till the muthafukas stop
Sellin nat shit
That make the hoody drop
No more easy gettin over
For da cracka in the back

Yo it's over
Number 1 wit a bullet
He pull it what I do now
Cant out run it or duck
Or get a new Chuck
Up against the wall
Wont confess y'all
I mo move and I'm gone
An so I guess y'all
Lemme tell you so lend me a listen
I'm missin a life
If I ain't givin up an ass kissin
No television or movie style
No buckwild thinkin
Cause I don't know what he drinkin
But he better act quick
Cause I'm gettin quicker
3 mo seconds to go
I hope he hold da trigga
If he do dat
The gatt iz outta his hands

And then he gotta deal wit a man
Punks jump up to get beat
I'm on the funky beat
Beat beat y'all
Until its 6 feet
Under dirt and the mud
Here we go again
Another enemy if you
Never was a friend
Never clever
As I was in this endeavor
Never again trust a smile or grin
From comin outta da womb
To endin up in a tomb
Another sport
Caught knockin nat boom

Here go the verse that hurts
Head brother in charge
So I better get bodyguard
What can I do
Break a leg on the avenue
Where the bootleggers
They be stackin the odds
Try to be hard but they playin my cards
Fuckin wit chicken
But I'm duckin in the lard
Been goin straight since 78
I wanna live I dont wanna be late
I head em comin at me
Runnin fast and ruff
Aint this a bitch and test for the tuff
Bang/doubt it
Without a life
I cant live without it
Bang

Live And Undrugged Part II

Rhymer in a zone

Say u wanna revolution
40 acres to 40 ounces
Plus they announcin
The mule is the one thats fooled
But I pass to be that jackass
Knockin that boom
To the tomb
Out the womb
I bet against the spread
I flipped death threats
And the 3 to the head
Never get enough
The raw, the rugged, the ruff
Oh my the jam the dunk the stuff
I got a mind thats maddes than Minolta
Hard in a rock place my corner
And the winner is
Whoop there it is
33 years without a beer or slow gin fizz
Rather get frunk off
Hearin rhymin wit biz
Rhymamatician, rumpshaker
Mindquaker
Not a cracker or a quacker
But a waker
Put my thing down
Step my shit up
Put up or shut up
Peace to the original what up
Back to the motherland
Where its warmer, transformer
Kill the informer
I hear em talkin creepin
But I'm not sleepin
My mellow I go back
Way back going, going
Before crack
And the 8 track
Still goin, gone, goodbye
To the lazy
I ain't pushing up or drivin
No daisies
I gotta remember Philly in September
Aint nuttin finer than peace
In Carolina and to the gods
Wanna be, gotta be
Starter of mo flow
Here we go the front row
As I cut the silly rhymin
Riddlin still the flow
Gettin ridda dem
Racist swazis
Cause I'm brinin kamikazes
They gotta give us where we live
We don't own
What you think is home
Its time to go up in smoke
911 is no joke
Once again friends
This enemy states fiddy states
Still say chill wait until
The right time baby
Damn the blood line
Gettin raid with AIDS
But somebodys gettin paid
Lets get it on and a on
But brothers gettin killed
Cause blunts and 40's is like
Cookies to da milk
I'm not crazy
I'm the revelation
Last days in time
The overtime rhymer
Rhymer in a zone
Right vs wrong
Good versus evil
God versus the devil
Public enemy
Muse sick in hour mess age

Ya took me from a place
Where the race didn't matter
And gathered up bodies
Without a choice
So I rather
Pass my opinion/back
Run ya over
With my rack an pinion
Never stop the engine
For watcha fathers did do the indian
North and south
Plus the Carribbean

I got a vendetta
Cause I know better
Better black than a stereotype white
No cash flow wit out work
Talkin bout the past
You busted our past
You busted our ass
Now you afraid cause I never got paid
Now sucka jump
You cant take whatcha want

You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Cant get away cause we got it on tape
You cant take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)

You can't take whatcha want
Dont cha know
We aint got nuttin left
Cause you took the rest
We aint got jazz rock and roll
Rappin the lose
Wit a few fat ladies left singin da blues
Go abracadabra to make
A wish I can mess wit
Wonder why I'm under
Neath a crew I cant get wit
I never knew land was an acquisition
BS from the best man in position
Come again wit dat shit
And set hit like a punk
No, you cant take whatcha want

You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Cant get away cause we got it on tape
You cant take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)

You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Cant get away cause we got it on tape
You cant take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)


You cant take whatcha want
I open up the trunk
I see your phony ass
Try to counterfeit funk
From land to land

To sea to sea
Allover got the other man
Messin wit me
Took the motherland
Made a slave of my mother and man
Got a good man
Sayin goddamn

And to hell with
Back in the days
Unless we go way back
To the black ways
Always
Watch your back
If ya crooked dont front
You cant take whatcha want

You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Cant get away cause we got it on tape
You cant take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)

You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Cant get away cause we got it on tape
You cant take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)

We died on the line
We walk the fine line he talked a good line

Let me hear you say...

I ain't mad at all
Bought a fat jam to make you flip the script
Don't want to sleep and misbehave
Understand what I'm saying

I'm all about makin some fat louies
So I can buy my kids
Motorcycles, candybars, Peter Paul
Flavor Flave, he ain't mad at all
Boyee

Poppa's got a brand new flav so once
Again here we go (X 4)
I ain't mad at all (X 3)

What you know
What you know bout that boy?

Noodles, neon noodles
On a fifth chillin with a toy
He's chillin
Thought he had a pit bull
Eating brussel sprouts but he had a big bite
He tried to bite me
He tried to get me
I turned around and I
Hit him with my bike

They picked me up
Put me in a wagon
The bottom fell out and my ass start draggin

Who put the cuffs on Flava
Why you gonna go and do that
He's the Flavor mack (X 2)

I ain't mad at all (X 2)

Yo check out my honey hoe's
Sing that shit gee

There's a Flavor Flav
So what your girlie
Before she wanna sneak out early
Cause on the di
Flavor snatched her up

First there was superfly
But Flavor's got more style
And you can't tell because your crackin up

Let me hear you say...

Kick it

Kick it

I ain't mad at all (X 6)

I got the feeling I got to tell ya
You be a star
And the man try to jail ya
I don't pollute
So why should I give a hoot
You ask
Why you livin foul

Na na na na na na

Why they wanna keep me down?

Cause you got Flavor workin day and nite

Why you wanna play me
Like fried ice cream
Give me nightmares
Can't never have a nice dream

I feel like bustin loose

Bustin loose
Give me a break y'all

You can try to cop my style
But Flavor Flav got too much on file
Boyee

I don't wanna go but I can't stay here no more

I ain't mad at all

Yeah, yeah, yeah

You flatlinin, you flatlinin you know what I'm sayin
Who put the cuffs...

I'm keepin a cool head
Smart and calculated
Tell da skinheads what I said & they hate it
One dumb move they make
A mistake a turnover/going going gone
And its over
Shoulda thought silly rabbit
Those habits'll getcha
Runnin whitcha life
So what some sucker snuck inside a knife
But I'm checkin it out
Back from a far you know
Theyll never know I'm backin up
An jettin to my car

B4 they steal it
Watch me ride an wheel it
Ooh! child here it comes now
I can feel it
Inspiration from the situation
Flowing to what I know an...

This ain't nuttin but another
Headline statistic, two brothers
But one went ballistic
Now I'm chillin beside my ride
Pulled over the side
Five-O ran a check
Now how the hell am I suspect

I see I'm peeking out ready to rumble
So now I'm speaking out
Against those
That flip the way the story goes
One never knows
Who be flippin the script
Whatever the traitors name
My aim is dunk em like
I'm Chris Webber

So many phony smilin faces
Traces of slander
Got em comin outta funny places
I had it an hear em
Talkin loud behind my back
What was good for the hood
Is what they say is wack
I take the stabbin & grin
When I'm hit
Cause I know the suckas smile
When I leave em
What I'm comin wit

I cant complain about the money
Although the suckas in the back
They talkin shit
An laughin like its somethin funny
I aim to make changes
An never change
Unless its for the better
Cause I always been a go better

Clean hustler
Rhyme instead of muscle ya
Born when ya thinkin I'm gone
The terror era is on...

I stand accused
To the crews
I paid my dues

I stand accused
I refuse
To stand and lose

I stand accused
To the news
I kick da blues
I stand accussed
I refuse

I hear em talkin & walkin
Behind my back I'm attacked
Fuck the knife in the back
Cause it feels like they got an axe

Yeah I can dig it wit a shovel
I never dig dirt wit the devil
Instead I'm on that other level

But I took time to reach down
To help the black & brown

I never stood around
I hear em talkin behind
My mind
In a ocean of sharks
And a back full a hackmarks

They say I'm fallin off
Yeah, they better call it off
& get muscle
& find another hustle quick
Sick n tired of critics
But I can take a hit
I'm all man
Alley oopin the vocal on jams
But they dont know it
They can blow it

& take a puff of dis joint
I see I'm kissin it off the cuff
Behind the back
I'm pullin axes and blades out the arms & the legs
Still my fellas get paid
The terror era is on

Fuck a critic/fuck fuck a critic
All the fuckin critics
Can get the did dit

All a fuckin critic does is
Draw a fuckin line

Cross a line and dis my rhyme
& then they ass is mine

If you find a critic dead
Remember what I said
Who killed a critic
Guess the crew did it

Say paybacks a crazy ass message
Sent to the writers who criticize
They're fuckin wit afreedom fighter

Who raises flags
& dragged the klan in bodybags
I hung em up in Missisippi & bum fuck
This is Chuck so what the hell
You think I did it for
To open doors from Carolina to Arkansas
And lemme let em I met em
I told my boys forget em
An what they did got rid of me
Negative
But 94 got stunts & blunts in da mix
I hear the crowd fallin vic
To old ghetto tricks
But if I wasn't your cousin
Wed leave em in the dozens
Of sellin out & bellin out
Half pint 40 ounce
Announce to the rest
We had a fall out

I never took a drink
Never took a hit or bribe
Or got spread by what a silly
Rumor said
Never sang or gang banged
Sold out or rented hip hop
Cause I know when to stop

Are you ready?
Uptown, on the corner, uptown
Uptown on the corner, uptown
I turn around and hear the sound of voices talkin bout who's goin to die next
Cause the white man's got a God complex
Tellin niggas screamin for help (help me, help me, help me, help me)
Nigga go make your own help
Shit you need it
I turn around and hear the sound of jukeboxes playin in bars
Pimps parked outside in big pretty Flavor Flav cars
Cleaner than a broke dick dog
Sittin in a big fine frog
Dressed very fine and fly in their Calvin Kani
No matter how you flex
Yo Jim
They'll die next
Cause the white man's got a God complex
Uptown on the corner, uptown (X 4)
Hey brother what you sport my man
I got just the thing for you
Only cause you're 10 and 2
What ya gonna do baby
I got black ones
Brown ones
Red ones
Yellow ones
I even got a white one
If you want to buy some
Yeah
That's right
2 5 8 play it straight
Got it all worked out
I know what I'm talkin bout
Yo I been readin my dream books
So I ain't no way the kid is gonna get took
Nigga what you mean
I didn't hit
Nigga
You full of shit
Nigga
Lick the ice (uh)
Now 7
Come on be nice and hit 11
Well what do you know
It's lil Joe
Ey my man
Got twenty dollars eh lil Joe don't blow
Ah baby needs a new pair of shoes
Ah pappas got the funky blues
Ah mamma plays the crosswords in the news
Sorry nigga you lose
The line forms to the rear lady muther fuck your welfare check
Cause the white man's got a God complex
Uptown on the corner (X 4)
Mr. Stein elevating a friend
But is proud to be mine
But you just want to cheat me cause I ain't your kind
Damn
I'm so poor
I don't know what the hell I'ma do anymore
Not from this day to the next
Cause the white man's got a God complex
(vamp out)

Intro
500 years ago one man claimed
To have discovered a new world
Five centuries later we the people
Are forced to celebrate a black holocaust

How can you call a takeover
A discovery

Mass murderer
This side of the planet
Most people take it for granted
502 and still doin
Give a reason I'm hatin
October celebratin
The dead

Of the black the brown and red
Sick an tired
Of bein sick n tired
Dont jump to conclusions
Before I clear the confusion
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
I'm talkin bout Columbus

Hit me one

I dont hate nobody
I hate that day
Its as crazy as Hitler day

Hangin heads and snappin necks
Splittin up kin
Makin familys wrecked
Turned this planet to a sewer
Provin to all just a lil grab
Will do ya
Or do us
So my disgust
Got credit from the ones that
Read it
Aint blind to the fact
Of a whack headline
And if you didn't I pay
No mind

That's how I feel
That's how I feel
This iz madd real

But these days
Is crazy as Hitler day

I don't hate nobody

It's impossible to discover a land
When people are already living there

Some thanks for the givin
When times are hard
& some got the nerve to pray to God
Aint about turkey
& cider that gets me sick
It's that take from the indian trick
Lookin pretty grim
When they takin da pill
From the sucker seekin somethin to kill
Now he got a day to celebrate
Aint that a trip
Cause the indians aint got shit

May 31st when it comin it hurts
Remember the dead and it makes me curse
When they dont include 100 million
Of us black folks
That died in the bottom of boats
I can carry on bout the killin till
Dusk & dawn
And war ain't the reason they gone
Fourth of July a fuckin lie
When did we ever
Get a piece of the pie
Gotta whole day comin
Without no pay
Cause a fuckin job
Cant gimme no play
Even had enuff I huff & puff
At brothers sellin the stuff
Takin in washingtons
Lincolns
Not they birthdays
Payback for em makin us slaves

[No lyrics]

Skills to kill
And fill a hole, we roll deep
Wit a frown that's down
Low in the meddle of jeep beats
So I'm makin a point
Not stickin butts or blunts
But the Terminator X
And the rhythm he cuts
Figure this bigger brother
Gonna trigger the track
No I ain't country
And my name ain't Zack
Step the fuck back
Take a look at the racks
My world is a ghetto full of tapes and wax
CDs they only double the tax
And makin money money
New York City to lax
Tell the suckers suckers
Never ever relax
I'm kickin in cold facts so true
It feels like I'm livin in a zoo

Sayin I'm down like psycho
Wheres my rifle? right though
I ain't Michael, yo
I ain't sittin on the dock of the bay
Wastin time in a crime wit a nine
Rather find another brutal rhyme
It's us verses, I put it all in verses
If the sound reverses
I pump it up wit curses
Fuck sittin in the back of the bus
But don't front what we lack
We got it loaded in a back pack
See they can do it to a man
But wit men suckers semi
Think that shit before they come again
No science to the wild senile
Slackin cause he packin like a

Runaway child yeah
Would I ever try to sever, hell no
Never would work if the
Rhyme wasn't clever
Wild in an isle
Stackin high from the floor tile
Back in the rack, where the rap never seen a
What I gonna wanna do...
Feels like I'm livin in a zoo

I don't know where I'm at
Here's a track
I try to duck duck
Those 3 bullets in the back
Top 40
Ignore me
Sooooo
I him 'em in the hood
Until it feel good

But I'm all right though
I wanna fight crazy dirty

It's not a matter of skills
But a battle of wills
Pow the stick up go the quicker the picker up
Trigga eenie meanie

Wit the gatt that so fat
Brrap bap bap cop dilla in a 16 wheeler
They call me over the phone
Che-che-checkin me out
Takin my time
To find a brother droppin dime
Once again it's on
In the paint, and I ain't givin up
No props to the game
And it stops in the name of the hip hop
Reign and the pain got me goin
Goddamn wont they even pull a
Bullet on a pop jam