Black Market Militia, dead prez - Audobon Ballroom lyrics

So in America, black people should never
Be accused of being violent
Or advocating violence in America
When a black man says 'I
Have to defend myself'
You should call that what it is, self defense
And if America has the
Right to defend herself, from her enemy
The black man in America has
The right, to defend himself
From his enemies
Because if it's alright for - please
I don't want to hear this
That handclapping's been done long enough"

I hold my marker
Like Huey P held his revolver
Plottin' vengeance, since them bullet shells
Sailed through Martin
I'm stressed, puffing cigarettes
Going through cartons, i'm vexed
Since the Panther leaders went up on charges
Upset i'll never meet 'em, but
I'm with 'em regardless, my guess
They die for freedom, and they
Die as a martyrs, they blessed
But some share needles in
The pissy apartments, obsessed
By thoughts of treason
What they did to the father
Jesse Jackson, in the face
Of his best friend's assassin
But wait, if I meet 'em
I'mma hand him a magnum
And whisper, in his ear
"leave none of them standing"
It ain't fair, he ain't here
You still appearin' in pageants
Imagine gags in the dungeon
Thoughts started by gunmen
Beating me, but I'm sworn to market secrecy
(I feel you son) , they will never weaken me
For the struggle, til my fate reaches me

You either pimpin' the system
Or gettin' pimped by the sytem
Don't want no slice of the pie
We want control of the kitchen
Gotta get this bread up nigga
Handle business and boss up
Ain't no slacking or slipping
Perpetrating or shortcuts
The spirit of love
Putting in work on the grind
Gotta sacrifice that blood
That sweat and our time
If you see it, we need it
We want it, we get it, for folks
Plotting them planets, they own it
Committed like soldiers
Til we make it happen
It ain't no mystery God
It's guaranteed when we move scientifically
God it's like planting the garden
I'm just a seed of Garvey's in the field
Trying to see the fruit's of the harvest
Same and long range
Grown folks do grown things
Can't let the game change me
I got to change the game
I'm thinking long range
Grown folks do grown things
Can't let the game change me
I got to change the game

One hand wash the other, both wash the face
Now real recognize real
Homey stay in your place what about the
Revolutionaries givin' they lives
My souls on ice, it's like I got
Blood in my eye
The price of freedom is bleeding
I ain't comitting no treason
Why they hate my black skin, god
Give me a reason
My mother said I'm an angel
Women say I'm a monster
I grew up in the hood environment
Lived amongst the thugs
And killas, the gangstas, the streets
They feel us
Ain't nothing realer than the feeling
When you loving yourself
Just be a man, take a stand
Don't be begging for help, help
My regulation is building my black nation
I'm running out of my patience
You owe us some reparations
Guns blowing, blood flowing
I ain't tryin' to be waiting
Out of control, sellin' our souls to Satan
Fakin' Satans fatin', Larry Davis

Nowadays wars wage quietly
Through secret societies
Nobody gon' fight back, we sit back silently
Reality hit hard, that could cause riots
See they dumbin' us down
Medicate us with non-violence
Television is Ritalin
They lockin' up the militant in you
But the struggle continue
When they can prison you
In your dome, your home, your zone
You a zomb' but, you're fried and deputized
Something is going wrong
Is you an agent of the state, but wait
Cuz if you really wasn't choosin' your side
Somebody choosin' your fate
Cuz the system don't fight fair
Guerillas don't fight fair
It's warfare everywhere
Look, it's right there
In the gated communities
They hatin' on you and me in Bush's economy
All he left us was the streets
In this dog eat dog world
We gotta fill our stomach's, son
We takin' back what they took, knock-knock
We coming

Somebody told me that ya'll, niggas is haters
I'mma tell ya'll one thing, that ya'll
Niggas can't trade us
Do about my business, and all about my paper
You can try to burn and lock
But the group is gon', phase ya
I'm from the gutter
Where niggas pitchin' that butter
When niggas up in your mother
They get knocked by undercovers, man
For all my sisters who on
They own with they children
Surviving to make a living, hold yea head up
There's a brighter day