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 aint 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 & get me...c'mon
Public Enemy - Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age Album Lyrics
Public Enemy - Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age Lyrics
- Whole Lotta Love Goin On In The Middle Of Hell
- Theatrical Parts
- Give It Up
- What Side You On?
- Bedlam 13:13
- Stop In The Name...
- What Kind Of Power We Got?
- So Whatcha Gone Do Now?
- White Heaven/Black Hell
- Race Against Time
- They Used To Call It Dope
- Aintnuttin Buttersong
- Live and Undrugged, Parts 1 & 2
- Thin Line Between Law & Rape
- I Aint Mad At All
- Death Of A Carjacka
- I Stand Accused
- Godd Complexx
- Hitler Day
- Harry Allen's Interactive Super Highway Phone Call to Chuck D
- Livin in a Zoo (remix)
Writer: CARLTON RIDENHOUR, GARY RINALDO, SEAN DEVORE
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Theatrical Parts
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Give It Up
[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
Flavo 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 [f*ck 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]
[x4]
Give it up, give it up, give it up yo
Give it up, give it up, gotta give it up
[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 x1/2]
[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 x4: fades out]
[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
Flavo 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 [f*ck 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]
[x4]
Give it up, give it up, give it up yo
Give it up, give it up, gotta give it up
[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 x1/2]
[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 x4: fades out]
Writer: MARVELL THOMAS, ALVERTIS ISBALL, GARY RINALDO, CARLTON RIDENHOUR, SEAN DEVORE
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group
What Side You On?
It's overtime
So the lyric
They fear it
When they hear it
The flow
A hundred miles and runnin'
Get near it
And go
Check it out
Go
To the race
Give the drumer a taste
The bass is comin' comin'
Suckas runnin' from it
Damn, why you call him
The man
Here I am scram
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 uh! 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 is 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 f*ck all dat
Political shit
But want to 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 with 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
And 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 that's that
Can you tell me y'all what
All in with 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
F*ck dat blood is ticker
Than water shit
That shit is counterfeit
Devil go where da shoe fit
Black mans law is raw like Africa
You violate
Were comin' after ya
They're here
So the lyric
They fear it
When they hear it
The flow
A hundred miles and runnin'
Get near it
And go
Check it out
Go
To the race
Give the drumer a taste
The bass is comin' comin'
Suckas runnin' from it
Damn, why you call him
The man
Here I am scram
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 uh! 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 is 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 f*ck all dat
Political shit
But want to 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 with 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
And 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 that's that
Can you tell me y'all what
All in with 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
F*ck dat blood is ticker
Than water shit
That shit is counterfeit
Devil go where da shoe fit
Black mans law is raw like Africa
You violate
Were comin' after ya
They're here
Writer: CARLTON RIDENHOUR, KERWIN E. YOUNG
Copyright: Lyrics © Exploration Group LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Exploration Group LLC
Bedlam 13:13
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 e nuff to know I ain't bionic
Wit my main man Harry
Not Connick
Rather rap my black as of
Getcha hooked on phonics
Good e nuff 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
Its 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 wont work no more
Ain't gonna woek no more no more
Verse II
My main knick knack paddy wack
C'mon & give a damn
Confrontational man
Iz what I am
Iz what I am
I'm tearin down da house that Jack built
Cause he killt whoever he wanted & hunted
And tax the backs of the environment macks
Who plan in da silence of the skams
A world dat wont 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 & water don't mix
But the new world order
Got a disorder
& 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
I.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Da trigga is cocked
Nowhere to flock
II.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Pass da word
F what you heard
III.
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 & man runnin the land sea & air poor
Do we all go the way of the dinosaur? or
To hell & 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
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 e nuff to know I ain't bionic
Wit my main man Harry
Not Connick
Rather rap my black as of
Getcha hooked on phonics
Good e nuff 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
Its 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 wont work no more
Ain't gonna woek no more no more
Verse II
My main knick knack paddy wack
C'mon & give a damn
Confrontational man
Iz what I am
Iz what I am
I'm tearin down da house that Jack built
Cause he killt whoever he wanted & hunted
And tax the backs of the environment macks
Who plan in da silence of the skams
A world dat wont 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 & water don't mix
But the new world order
Got a disorder
& 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
I.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Da trigga is cocked
Nowhere to flock
II.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Pass da word
F what you heard
III.
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 & man runnin the land sea & air poor
Do we all go the way of the dinosaur? or
To hell & 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
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Stop In The Name...
Full fledgin' never sat on my legend
No shuffle or shoulder shruggin'
Uncle Tommin nickel and dime rhymin'
This renegade rippin'
Rugged trax I love it
Sorta black owned
Like da Denver Nuggets
Pow pow
The original
Harder hitter
Is back in black
On deck with 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' with 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
No shuffle or shoulder shruggin'
Uncle Tommin nickel and dime rhymin'
This renegade rippin'
Rugged trax I love it
Sorta black owned
Like da Denver Nuggets
Pow pow
The original
Harder hitter
Is back in black
On deck with 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' with 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
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
What Kind Of Power We Got?
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 f*ckin 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 f*ck 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!
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 f*ckin 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 f*ck 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!
Writer: WILLIAM DRAYTON, KERWIN E. YOUNG, EUGENE RECORD
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
So Whatcha Gone Do Now?
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 iz a gun iz
A muther f*ckin gun
But an organized side
Keep a sellout niga 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
Dont 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
Madd uncivilized lifestyles
30 years bids for kids, now thats wild
I'm raisin my child
I'm steppin to da curb
Wit a sign do not disturb
Too much dont give a f*ck
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 aint 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 & money
All you know how
So whatcha gone do now?
Break
The only good niga iz a dead niga
Dats what they used to say
Cant 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 & now they on they own
Now check yourself cool
What good iz da hood if ya actin a fool
Talkin dat gattalk, walkin dat catwalk
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 iz a gun iz
A muther f*ckin gun
But an organized side
Keep a sellout niga 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
Dont 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
Madd uncivilized lifestyles
30 years bids for kids, now thats wild
I'm raisin my child
I'm steppin to da curb
Wit a sign do not disturb
Too much dont give a f*ck
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 aint 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 & money
All you know how
So whatcha gone do now?
Break
The only good niga iz a dead niga
Dats what they used to say
Cant 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 & now they on they own
Now check yourself cool
What good iz da hood if ya actin a fool
Talkin dat gattalk, walkin dat catwalk
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
White Heaven/Black Hell
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 aint 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 & get me...c'mon
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 aint 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 & get me...c'mon
Writer: CARL MITCHELL HAMPTON, CARLTON RIDENHOUR, JO BRIDGES, TOM NIXON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
Race Against Time
Everybody over here, get on up
Everybody right there, get into it
Everybody over there, get involved
Everybody just, get involved
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
With these shots, tell me what I got
An' 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 booty, I rocked it
A hundred and five million goin' down in da ground
Most in da black an' da brown
How did I catch this riddle?
If I didn't crossover like a Hardaway dribble
They blamed it on some green African monkey
Now ain't that funky?
While da clock is doin' da tickin' an' tock
I didn't know dat da guns aimed an' cocked
On us, on us, on us, on us
On us, on us, on us
We're runnin' outta
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Testin' one, two, testin' one, two
Can I get a blood check? Testin' one, two
Can I get a witness?
Yes, you can
Can I get a witness?
Yes, you can
Then check it
I'm checkin' records an' facts about da battle
To da Indian, Japanese, the whites an' the blacks
Germs, they spread it, warfare, I read it
Quote me on this, yes, again an' I said it
A bigger damage than the trigger an' glocks
A mass murder in mass from a blanket full o' smallpox
No guarantees, gettin' lesser fees
Tuskegee had us go out with disease
Please check da time, c'mon, check da rhyme
Tribe o' 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, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time
A lil' piece of my mind while we runnin' outta time
People of color goin' out like no other kind
Mad drama, genetic gettin' wreck
Protect ya' neck, check the epidemic
Drug use, addiction an' murder, I heard a pregnancy
Infant mortality, rest in poverty not peace
Disease 'til deceased, sterilized, realized
That beast, so here's a word to the wise
They got us runnin' outta
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Boy, you need to check that alarm clock
And wake up, my brother
Everybody right there, get into it
Everybody over there, get involved
Everybody just, get involved
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
With these shots, tell me what I got
An' 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 booty, I rocked it
A hundred and five million goin' down in da ground
Most in da black an' da brown
How did I catch this riddle?
If I didn't crossover like a Hardaway dribble
They blamed it on some green African monkey
Now ain't that funky?
While da clock is doin' da tickin' an' tock
I didn't know dat da guns aimed an' cocked
On us, on us, on us, on us
On us, on us, on us
We're runnin' outta
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Testin' one, two, testin' one, two
Can I get a blood check? Testin' one, two
Can I get a witness?
Yes, you can
Can I get a witness?
Yes, you can
Then check it
I'm checkin' records an' facts about da battle
To da Indian, Japanese, the whites an' the blacks
Germs, they spread it, warfare, I read it
Quote me on this, yes, again an' I said it
A bigger damage than the trigger an' glocks
A mass murder in mass from a blanket full o' smallpox
No guarantees, gettin' lesser fees
Tuskegee had us go out with disease
Please check da time, c'mon, check da rhyme
Tribe o' 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, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time
A lil' piece of my mind while we runnin' outta time
People of color goin' out like no other kind
Mad drama, genetic gettin' wreck
Protect ya' neck, check the epidemic
Drug use, addiction an' murder, I heard a pregnancy
Infant mortality, rest in poverty not peace
Disease 'til deceased, sterilized, realized
That beast, so here's a word to the wise
They got us runnin' outta
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Time, time, time, time
Boy, you need to check that alarm clock
And wake up, my brother
Writer: MAHALIA JACKSON, THOMAS A. DORSEY
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
They Used To Call It Dope
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
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
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Aintnuttin Buttersong
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
Dont you know
I got tangled
In the star spangled banner
In the middle of Alabama
Or was it Tennesee or Arkansas
New York & Cali got the same
Amount of race rallys
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 tryes to blame it on the rappers
They dont count the ones
That bounce to the 40 ounce
Or the runts dat get stunted
By the bluntz
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
O cay can you see
But you cant
Uncle Sammy wears the pants
Toms 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
O 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 nigas 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 mans heaven is black mans 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
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
Dont you know
I got tangled
In the star spangled banner
In the middle of Alabama
Or was it Tennesee or Arkansas
New York & Cali got the same
Amount of race rallys
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 tryes to blame it on the rappers
They dont count the ones
That bounce to the 40 ounce
Or the runts dat get stunted
By the bluntz
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
O cay can you see
But you cant
Uncle Sammy wears the pants
Toms 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
O 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 nigas 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 mans heaven is black mans 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
Writer: GEORGE S CLINTON, OSTEN HARVEY, OSTEN S HARVEY, CARLTON DOUGLAS RIDENHOUR, DWIGHT DAVID TURNER, NORMAN A WHITFIELD
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Live and Undrugged, Parts 1 & 2
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Thin Line Between Law & Rape
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 Caribbean
I got a vendetta
Cause I know better
Better black than a stereotype white
No cash flow with 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 can't take whatcha want
[Chorus]
You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Can't get away 'cause we got it on tape
You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)
You can't take whatcha want
Don't cha know
We ain't got nothin' left
Cause you took the rest
We ain't got jazz rock and roll
Rappin' the lose
With 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 can't get wit
I never knew land was an acquisition
BS from the best man in position
Come again with dat shit
And set hit like a punk
No, you can't take whatcha want
[Chorus: x2]
You can't 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' with 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 don't front
You can't take whatcha want
[Chorus: x2]
We died on the line
We walk the fine line he talked a good line
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 Caribbean
I got a vendetta
Cause I know better
Better black than a stereotype white
No cash flow with 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 can't take whatcha want
[Chorus]
You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Can't get away 'cause we got it on tape
You can't take whatcha want
Cause ya took whatcha want
Thin line between law and rape (scream)
You can't take whatcha want
Don't cha know
We ain't got nothin' left
Cause you took the rest
We ain't got jazz rock and roll
Rappin' the lose
With 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 can't get wit
I never knew land was an acquisition
BS from the best man in position
Come again with dat shit
And set hit like a punk
No, you can't take whatcha want
[Chorus: x2]
You can't 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' with 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 don't front
You can't take whatcha want
[Chorus: x2]
We died on the line
We walk the fine line he talked a good line
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
I Aint Mad At All
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 [x4]
I ain't mad at all [x3]
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 [x2]
I ain't mad at all [x2]
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 [x6]
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 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 [x4]
I ain't mad at all [x3]
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 [x2]
I ain't mad at all [x2]
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 [x6]
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...
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Death Of A Carjacka
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
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
Writer: ISAAC HAYES, DAVID PORTER, CARLTON RIDENHOUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management
I Stand Accused
Live And Undrugged Part I
Its been a long time
Since the rhyme rode
A rough road
I'm riding rhymes & 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
Spose 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 dopemans livin at home
Aloneman
They dont understand
But they can
They can can
If I dont say it
I'm a sucka parlayin it
Don't really matter
When the flow fatter
But I dont dont
Believe
& 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 its 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 yall
I mo move & I'm gone
An so I guess yall
Lemme tell you so lend me a listen
I'm missin a life
If I aint givin up an ass kissin
No television or movie style
No buckwild thinkin
Cause I dont 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
& then he gotta deal wit a man
Punks jump up to get beat
I'm on the funky beat
Beat beat yall
Until its 6 feet
Under dirt & the mud
Here we go again
Another enemy if you
Never was a friend
Never clever
As I was in this endever
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
F*ckin 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 & ruff
Aint this a bitch & 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 & 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 & 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
Its been a long time
Since the rhyme rode
A rough road
I'm riding rhymes & 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
Spose 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 dopemans livin at home
Aloneman
They dont understand
But they can
They can can
If I dont say it
I'm a sucka parlayin it
Don't really matter
When the flow fatter
But I dont dont
Believe
& 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 its 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 yall
I mo move & I'm gone
An so I guess yall
Lemme tell you so lend me a listen
I'm missin a life
If I aint givin up an ass kissin
No television or movie style
No buckwild thinkin
Cause I dont 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
& then he gotta deal wit a man
Punks jump up to get beat
I'm on the funky beat
Beat beat yall
Until its 6 feet
Under dirt & the mud
Here we go again
Another enemy if you
Never was a friend
Never clever
As I was in this endever
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
F*ckin 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 & ruff
Aint this a bitch & 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 & 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 & 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
Writer: CARLTON DOUGLAS RIDENHOUR, KEITH M SHOCKLEE, OSTEN HARVEY, OSTEN S HARVEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Godd Complexx
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 f*ck 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)
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 f*ck 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)
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Hitler Day
[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 f*ckin lie
When did we ever
Get a piece of the pie
Gotta whole day comin
Without no pay
Cause a f*ckin 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
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 f*ckin lie
When did we ever
Get a piece of the pie
Gotta whole day comin
Without no pay
Cause a f*ckin 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
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Harry Allen's Interactive Super Highway Phone Call to Chuck D
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher
Livin in a Zoo (remix)
Shocklee - young - allen
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 f*ck back
Take a look at the racks
My world is a ghetto full of tapes and wax
Cd's 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
Where's 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
F*ck 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 won't they even pull a
Bullet on a pop jam
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 f*ck back
Take a look at the racks
My world is a ghetto full of tapes and wax
Cd's 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
Where's 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
F*ck 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 won't they even pull a
Bullet on a pop jam
Writer: James Henry III Boxley, Gary J. Rinaldo, George Jr. Clinton, William Earl Collins, Garry Marshall Shider, Carl L. Dehaney, Carlton Douglas Ridenhour
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Word Collections Publishing, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Word Collections Publishing, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING
Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age is the fifth studio album by American hip hop group Public Enemy, released on August 23, 1994, by Def Jam Recordings. The title is a reverse mondegreen of the phrase "music in our message" (emphasizing that their message is more important than the music, rather than the typical "message in our music"). Alternatively, it could be interpreted as "music and our message." The album debuted at number 14 on the US Billboard 200 chart, selling 56,000 copies in its first week.
The album's first single, "Give It Up", peaked at number 33 on the US Billboard Hot 100 in August 1994, and was the group's only American top 40 hit in their career.
Upon its release, Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age received generally mixed-to-positive reviews from most music critics, amid controversy among critics and fans over Public Enemy's relevance in hip hop at the time.
Mark Texeira illustrated the cover and inside sleeve.
Performed By:
Public EnemyThe album's first single, "Give It Up", peaked at number 33 on the US Billboard Hot 100 in August 1994, and was the group's only American top 40 hit in their career.
Upon its release, Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age received generally mixed-to-positive reviews from most music critics, amid controversy among critics and fans over Public Enemy's relevance in hip hop at the time.
Mark Texeira illustrated the cover and inside sleeve.
Genre(s): Hardcore hip hop, alternative hip hop, political hip hop
Producer(s): The Bomb Squad, Gary G-Wiz, Keith Shocklee, Flavor Flav, Easy Mo Bee, Kerwin "Sleek" Young, Larry "Panic" Walford
Length: 74:28
Released: August 23rd, 1994
Year: 1994