MC Ren - Bring It On

Текст песни

Good evening, this is the truth hour
And don’t you touch that dial
Just stay tuned in, to the truth hour
I didn’t come to lighten up, I came to tighten up
Niggas, here I come, black nigga, the guerrilla
Busting shit, who is it? — it's the Bitch Made Nigga Killa
I control the streets, shit is all underground
Niggas gotta step the fuck back, when I come around
Nigga, fuck the police, the white one, the black one
The Mexican, the Japanese can all suck deez
Cause how in the fuck can you serve this government?
That be plotting to kill niggas, they want to steal niggas
Here we are today, 30, 40 million strong
Handkerchief-headed niggas saying ain’t shit wrong
Niggas don’t give a fuck about your three strikes
That’s why I give you hell when I’m busting on the mic
I got niggas in the cut of the ninety-one
Niggas in the streets selling heaters, I’mma find me one
And off them devils off from the shack
Fools going crazy cause that nigga Ren is back
What’s up, dawg? — it's on once again, let them fools know
When we’re coming through, we’re straight giving you the voo doo
Keep it real, if you like it or you don’t
Working hard like bugs, straight have know what the fuck we want
I bought a house in the suburbs
Next to the homie Wade, I made a killing off them birds
White folks straight mad as fuck
Because I’m rolling in a Benz and a 30.000 dollar truck
Yo, I takes mine, yo, when I shakes mine
On the real, the government labels me a flatline
And Uncle Sam gives a fuck about me
That’s why I’m spitting in this phase on the Ren LP
Yo, he more wicked then a horror flick
Think you won’t, high powered mandate to a five dollar bitch
Yo, they say America the land of the free
But the first thing I have seen was slavery, fool
So is you scared of me?
Four hundred and thirty nine years of slavery (Slavery)
And we still ain’t free
But we supposed to act like we’re living in harmony
(Bring it on, you’ve got to bring it on)
I pledge allegi' to the flag
When I’m rolling down the block in my ride
But it’s … it’s your rag
Yeah, I stick hand tight
I drop a kit to my nigga in the pen doing ten
I put a nigga in a cage, but I’m never on his back
While Uncle Sam straight stack
I wish they let them fly like the pigeon in the wind
But every nigga in the pen alive
With one point to get every 3−65
Say you gotta keep up, if you’re on the main line
You gotta hurt some, while you’re in the show-line
So if you wanna survive don’t let them eyes sleep
Even when you hustle on the streets
Yeah, break myself never
However, I’m in this so scrilla
The Clinic gang running thangs up, so I smoke trouble
Gathering up at the shack, cause Ren’s got my back
187's got a sack, and I got a sack
So bring it on, we get the whole country high
Above the Law, the crooked letter, and here’s the plot
Then they get upset, cause we set up shop, in their hoods
And start slanging them no goods
We should go uptown, and poison the suburbs
Have all them white fellows straight going to the curb
Instead they slide down to our block
Just to get a bit of that Peruvian rock
Ain’t no gun factories in Gardena
Ain’t no poppy fields popping out in Pomona
I bought my steel from a white man
My works from the S-A-M
My interiors be looking hitting corners, uh
You with me?
Cause I got to drop this stuff tonight
Because I’m a truth terrorist
I’m a knowledge gangster
I’m a black history hitman
I’m a lie killer, urban guerrilla
I gotta be a roughneck
I gotta be a roughneck
It’s the only way I know to go