Mr. Lif, Metro - Gun Fight lyrics

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 ID"
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!

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!

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)