Endangered Species (Tales from the Darkside)
Ice Cube, Chuck D
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Peace. ha-ha don't make me laugh All I hear is motherfuckers talkin' succotash Livin' large, tellin' me to get out the gang I'm a nigga, gotta live by the trigger How the f*ck do you figure? That I can say peace and the gunshots won't cease Every cop killin' goes ignored They just send another nigga to the morgue A point scored- they could give a f*ck about us They rather catch us with guns and white powder If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy They kill ten of me to get the job correct To serve, protect, and break a nigga's neck 'Cause I'm the one with the trunk of funk And "F*ck Tha Police" in the tape deck You should listen to me 'cause there's more to see Call my neighborhood a ghetto 'cause it houses minorities The other color don't know you can run but not hide These are tales from the darkside You wanna free Africa, I stare at you 'Cause we ain't got it too good in America I can't f*ck with them overseas My homeboy died over a key of cocaine It was plain and simple The nine millimeter went pop to the temple Pop pop pop was the sound I put the bitch down And ran to the schoolyard bathroom Looked in the trash can yo it had room So I ducked my ass in it for a minute Covered with sweat I had the layback Mad as f*ck, thinkin' about the payback Tonight the crew gonna have a little fun I went home and cocked the barrel of my shotgun It's gettin' critical - I start the five-point-oh There they go - drive real slow I yelled out "Ice Cube sucka" Shot gun hit - and murder motherfuckers I told you last album, when I got a sawed off, bodies are hard off Its a shame, that niggas die young But to the light side it don't matter none It'll be a drive by homicide But to me it's just another tale from the darkside Standing in the middle of war The middle we flex When we die, they won't make check Ebony can't see to the darkside The term they apply to us is a nigga Call it what you want, 'cause I'm comin' from the coroner Same applies with a PhD Who's black - don't wanna role - sells his soul Watch his head go rollin' Who the f*ck are they foolin'? Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes Matches the color of the one on my face as they wonder what's under my waist Standin' on the verge of them gettin' brown That's a fact got a fear on their bozack Run, run, run, their ass off, they can not hide Yet cube, they can't f*ck with the darkside
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Written by: GEORGE CLINTON JR., WILLIAM BOOTSY COLLINS, GRACE COOK, GARRY SHIDER, BERNIE WORRELL, UNKNOWN WRITER
Lyrics © A SIDE MUSIC LLC D/B/A MODERN WORKS MUSIC PUBLISHING, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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