Gun Fight

[Verse 1 Metro]
Hate me cause you ain't me
Thug with a badge I won't budge
Minding my business
No I'm not selling drugs
"Sir you fit the description of a fool
It wasn't you, well then it could've been your brother wordup"
So what you saying?
"Look kid, I'm just doing my job
Neighbors complaining bout a crime and claiming you was involved"
It wasn't me!
"Still I'm gonna need 3 forms of I.D."
My temperature's rising, so now they're testing for sobriety
Why!
"Why are you sweating if you're innocent?
Only the guilty work the prison ship
Something to hide?
Run a 50 on his identity
They'll cut him inside
And let the animals cancel each other out, that's how we handle 'em right
Mr. Lawson, you've got warrants
Outstanding ones"
Said it with a smirk then cocked back his handgun!

[Verse 2 Mr. Lif]
Lorenzo Doby now let's bring it back to Rodney
Cops ain't sorry to them it's more like a safari
Their viewing us as 3/5 human, so their guns boomin'
Death is looming ain't no punishment pursuing
Them cops got off scott free it doesn't shock me
Until they use their tazer to shock me
They use "Freeze Plus" to seize us dogs and leave us in dark alleys
Protest, they beat you at rallies
Families won't recover from loss of a brother, mother, sister, or father
It's outright slaughter
Emancipation Proclamation
Just some documentation to rock you to sleep knowing your cell is waiting
This nation is a plantation
The government is slave master
Police are trained to gather slaves faster
Ask them brothers down in Alabama
They brought the chain gangs back in '95
Slavery's alive!
Housing crisis, oil crisis
Low pay and high prices
As the desperation rises
They'll be ready to fight us with shields and snipers
They'll kill your kid in diapers
They'll murder anybody like us!

[Verse 3 {Lif} and (Metro)]
{41 shots. 50 shots. 81 shots
Leaving brothers in burial plots. We rot.}
(They've got a million of us locked and gunning for a million and two
That's me and you but this is where the buck stops.)
{Lots of us don't get a chance to advance like your kids
You've got our Pops doing long bids}
(Solitary confinement)
{Mind out of alignment
And when we get out}
(There'll be no chance for refinement)
{Jobs ain't hiring}
(Such a hostile environment
Doing short bids that turn into long stretches
For fighting off killers that's coming with sharp weapons)
{Guards ain't helping}
(They only pick up where the pigs left us
Karate kick you in the intestines)
(I'm learning big lessons, on how to thug as a profession
They want 12 percent of all Blacks in jail by 2010)
{The future's looking pretty grim}
(Once again I'm stressing us learning our rights
It's looking like, we're headed for a gun fight!!)