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paris (rap) - bring it to ya lyrics
[intro: paris]
yeah
special shout going out to all them motherf-cking pigs out there
boys in blue, ghetto gestapo
“to serve, protect and break a n-gga’s neck” is how the saying goes
i’m here to speak on that
special one, step up and let they -ss know
[verse 1: special one, conscious daughters]
friday night, me and afro key and the coup
i’m celebrating cause we coming up and sh-t is moving
it’s the conscious, the daughters, daughters conscious represent
east o, dipping slow, hit a right on 35th
on my way to, kick it with brother cause it’s time
for me to get my feel so i’mma go for mine
but the 5-o, wanna follow me and try to break
cause special one is making more than piggies on the take
should i, pull over, and hope the sh-t is cool?
or should i mash cause i ain’t no motherf-cking fool?
see, oakland california is a city where the pigs don’t play
i see that sh-t everyday so i’ma bring it to ya
[interlude]
yeah, you better listen to exactly what’s going on
(i’ma bring it to ya)
pigs out in this motherf-cker do whatever they want, whenever they want
(so i’ma bring it to ya)
robbing, k!lling, raping, you name it, they done it
(i’ma bring it to ya)
and still do that
so next time you feel like you safe in the community, think again
[verse 2: cmg, conscious daughters]
mista policeman, or whatever you call you
you can’t sweat the c ’cause i’m not that easy
violation one, two, three, cmg in the o
getting jacked by the po-po
show me any cop in the community who’s fair
and i’ll show you some more that rather see a sister dead
so tell me, what’s the reason for the jack? i talk back
oh, now you take my money and ask me where i got it at?
cmg is just a cash making girl
an artist, an artiste, so what? f-ck the police
and any other cause i’m down to squab (why is that?)
b-tches wanna do me cause i’m rolling with the mob
motherf-cker
[interlude]
yeah
so now i got my molotov c-cktail, fire grenades
(i’ma bring it to ya)
m-ffler bombs, people’s grenades, pipe bombs and sh-t
(i’ma bring it to ya)
i’m blowing locks, i got my motherf-cking sling shot
(i’ma bring it to ya)
and of course you know i got the glock 21 semi-automatic
[verse 3: paris]
up from the depths of, quiet is kept a
soldier was awakened where a n-gga once slept
in the face of adversity, no mercy on my soul
i’ve seen ’em do the dirt, now blood is running cold
five deep in a cutty and i’m gripping on a nine
cause i’m through crying foul, they running out of time
got doc k, cloud d, wood and yonny yan
riding pump in the trunk for them piggies when they come
see, n-ggas steady dying never making front page
in america is scary, whitey never caught a case
for k!lling blacks, so we holding court up in the street
please have some mo’ “coffee, death & donuts” on your beat
now some will say, “cop k!lla music might incite”
but k!ller cops whoop on n-ggas each and every night
so tell me who’s to blame for the hate that hate produced
i’m better off dead than with you
f-ck america
[outro]
yeah, f-ck america
them motherf-ckers don’t give a f-ck about you
(i’ma bring it to ya)
they’d rather see you dead and the sooner you understand then the better off you gon’ be
(so i’ma bring it to ya)
america is a racist country
it was built on racism
that’s a fact
(i’ma bring it to ya)
so when you see the police in yo’ community, who you think they protecting?
(so i’ma bring it to ya)
who they serving? not us
who don’t own sh-t so what’s really going on?
make you wanna take them punk motherf-ckers and beat the dog sh-t outta ’em
gives a f-ck
nat turner 1994
and i’m out
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