Текст песни dead prez ft. Talib Kweli - Sharp Shooters

Текст:

(sticman) Everything is politics,I CHIN, Kweli, people army, you know it (M-1) The white man came to Africa with rifles and Bibles Heard the name, started changin the titles Now instead of Chaka call me Nat Turner with the burner Freedom fighter for this revolution, fuck a wave journer See I be what John Wilkes Booth was to Lincoln, blam! Sirhan Sirhan, peepin through the curtains with my eyes on a Kennedy Dead prez, politic, know your enemy, keep your toast close Because political power come from the barrel of it We in a war, nigga leave it or love it Since they got us in a scope like a PE logo I watch for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the dojo Not a gun Deniro but a working class hero Takin a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Guran Screamin know your gun laws, self defense is a must When we set it off I'm a be the first to bust (Chorus - dead prez) Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me (Talib Kweli) What do you do when the police kick in your door like 'get on the floor' Shoot you in the back cause who you are and where you at's against the law You try to protect your home with the illest arsenal possible Learn how to heal yourself and stop fuckin with them hospitals Get with brothas down for the cause givin it all they got But every brother ain't a brother (word), fuck around and get shot By these black kings that pack gatlings to make a rat sing like Nat King Before they start blasting (blow!) With no accuracy, handling they beef in the public Now an innocent child got a bag for a stomach Property value plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon) People feelin betrayed so they take the street to riot Cops fire shots and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire block Politicians say it's time to march But people is past that, ready to blast at whatever comin From the master or from the office, niggas is sick of runnin Yeah, all my soldier, raise it up, c'mon, now (Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with dead prez, c'mon (Blow blow) (sticman) I'm deep in the runs where all that niggas give a fuck about is stackin funds The black and young type that's packin automatic guns If any static comes sparatic shots'll ring out You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains blown clean out The killers reign supreme, survival of the illest brain and scheme For cream you know the game in my vein I feel the pain for all the niggas that passed away Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old fashion way Blastin, we actin like cock tecs and tenniments My squad flex if any shit pop, and put an end to it It's like hell, this planet I'm from consist of dilligent crack sale Assisting off the backs of young black males It's innocent, suspending in packed jails that benefit White well being, while niggas catch hell just for being You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin free in this life I stick a nine in ya spine for mine No time for talk, 'cause I walk when I talk Stalkin sidewalks of course with the eyes of a hawk Crack a quart to get away from this trife world and thought Puffin Newports 'cause life's a bitch, and it's too short My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, rugged denim Deadly in venom, totin buckets with nothin in 'em But Rawkus, some ill mothafuckas for real Straight hustlas with nothin but a taste for kill (Chorus) 4x (Talib Kweli talking) Yeah, c'mon, all my soldiers Brooklyn where you at Florida, Cincinnati where you at Africa where you at, yo

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