Call ’Em Out

[Sample: John Barton]
I wonder if you'd believe this as a solution to the "Aboriginal problem"?
Herd the worst of the Aborigines into one area, then put a chemical in their water that sent them sterile
In time, there'd be none of them left
Well, that solution has been put forward by none other than one of the premier's closest friends: West Australian mining magnate, Lang Hancock

[Verse 1: Trials]
Yeah, my trust in the police died in custody (Pow)
Hand cuffed and stuffed inside some fuckery
Double knees to keep my breathing shallow as my grave is
On my best behaviours, till we end up leaking on the pavements (Why?)
Best believe it's racist if we both walk in the same shop tomorrow (Tomorrow)
And only one gets followed by the same cop (Come here, son)
The only difference is our pigment (What's that?)
At least, that's what the pig meant (What's that?)
They wanna put us all back in the pig pen
But not all are, still thinking we fauna
This real life, hit 'em with that one-two: Tamir Rice
Clear signs nothing's getting better and they ain't gonna let up
Till we get that gut full and fed up (We starving)
That's when they told me looking out for justice was outdated
Deal with it and trust the judges (What the fuck?)
Newsflash, motherfucker, I don't respect ya (Hell no)
Ignoring that is easy when it won't even effect ya

[Chorus: Trials & Briggs]
I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out
I said, I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out
I said, I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out
I call 'em out, and then I sort 'em out quick
Hey, Briggs, you called 'em out? Hell yeah, I called 'em out
We did another lap and gave 'em something else to talk about
We called 'em out—What? What?—We called 'em out
We called 'em out, and then we sort 'em out quick
Bitch, and then we sort 'em out quick
They want beef, then we sort 'em out
Then we sort 'em out quick
And then we sort 'em out quick

[Sample: Lang Hancock]
The ones that are no good to themselves, can’t accept things, the half-castes—and this is where most of the trouble comes—I would dope the water up so that they were sterile and would breed themselves out in future, and that would solve the problem

[Verse 2: Guilty Simpson]
Yeah, skin of onyx, Mantronix
Sippin' gin and tonic, and hittin' chronic
I spit ebonics, fuck the system
I heard they buildin' up another prison
Right outside the subdivision, Officer Friendly
Swallowing Henny, intoxicated off power
Following any vehicle occupied
With people of colour, so I'm keepin' my brother
The powers against me, Mama convinced me
There's good in everybody and e'rybody was good
When they used to lynch me and drench me
I'm speaking for victims, many don't have a voice
Shuffled in the system, so we share the wisdom
Speaking of lives lost, they killing our kind
And barely getting time off
They said we really shouldn't talk about
I say the opposite and call 'em out

[Chorus: Guilty Simpson & Trials]
Yeah, yeah, I call 'em out
I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out
I said I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out
I call 'em out, and then I sort 'em out quick

[Sample: Town Major]
The do-gooders came along and they
These bureaucrats and the rest of them who would write great theses on things down South
And they decided that they better go and civilise these savages of ours, so they brought 'em into the towns

[Verse 3: Briggs]
Third class citizen, never got rid of 'em
Locked in the system, no presumption of innocence
I keep the mind state militant
I keep watch on my brothers 'cause my state's killin 'em
I keep my whips inconspicuous
'Cause these pigs give a fuck what you in
'Cause what you drive may be where you die
If you pull over, you mightn't pull out alive
Raisin' my hands, drawn a line in the sand
So there's no excuse for a gun and a badge
To let anything fly
If anyone dies, make sure every cop shop in the city fries
It's easier to kill us than skill us
What good's a gorilla in a world of vanilla?
Other rappers ain't finna, nah, to talk about (Fuck boys)
Fuck that, I say the opposite and call 'em out

[Sample: Spokesman for the Queensland Graziers]
Now I wouldn't mind, Philip
If it was just the blacks, the true Aborigines
But there are so many hybrids
And they are nearly white, and this is where it hurts me