Pressure
Lyrics
Who are you? You don't know?
Don't tell me 'Negro' that's nothing
What were you before the white
Man named you a 'Negro'? What was your name?
It couldn't have been 'Smith' or
'Jones' or 'Bush' or 'Powell'
That wasn't your name
They don't have those kind of names
Where you and I came from
No what was your name?
And why don't you now know
What your name was then?
Where was your history?
How did a man wipe out your history?
How did the man, what did the man
Do to make you as dumb
As you are right now?
Motherfuckas I just bought some new chuckas
The old ones bloodied up from
Stomping out mo' suckas big bad Killa
Big black gorilla
King Kong on you monkey ass niggas
Step and fetch funky ass, flunky ass niggas
Dick in the booty for your Massa' ass niggas
I don't fear no man
Not Bush not Clinton not Osama
Ask your Uncle Thomas how he
Choose Massa' over Obama
You could have a million dollars
And a white collar
Liberation costs more then a damn dollar
It costs what Christ gave king gave
X gave
A billion dollars don't make you an ex-slave
Nigga With an Attitude since fifth grade
I never behave
Rather be a dead man than a live slave
We can say what we like
Put the pressure on 'em
Ice Cube and Killer Mike
Put the pressure on 'em i can do what I want
Put the pressure on 'em
But god dammit I'm gonna
Put the pressure on 'em
Put the pressure on 'em
Homie put the pressure on 'em
Put the pressure on 'em
Homie put the pressure on 'em
Put the pressure on 'em
Homie put the pressure on 'em
Cause pressure bust pipes
Pressure bust pipes
I'm here to deprogram you
Don't forget what they made
Your great grandmama do
What they made your great granddaddy do
Without a dollar or a penny or a thank you
The same motherfuckers wanna gank you
Cause they hate you and the
Pussy that you came through
Can anybody tell me that it ain't true?
That these motherfuckers ain't out
To hurt you
They'll lock you up, beat you up and work you
Put your life on a thirty year curfew
Little cell little window for
You to look through
Even gotta a little chair where
He can cook you
Nigga please I'mma be in the breeze
Beat 'em up with my plan like the Japanese
Now I'm overseas and I'm trapping these
Thank God I didn't have to cock and squeeze
Black politicians stop bullshitting
And you funky black preachers
With your pulpit
Our kings had dreams and a big vision
All you give us is government and religion
Is you a freedom fighter or a stool pigeon
Is you down for your people
In the big mission
Or you a dirty nigga working
For a fucking Clinton
Or you dirty nigga working for a fucking Bush
Another message for the politicians:
Better get the police off our ass quickly
If another old lady die in this city
Swear to god we will burn
Down the fucking city big schemes
Big dreams yeah I'm with it folk
But twenty years of selling dope
Just a fucking joke
And so what, you the man with that white man?
Probation got your answering to a white man
God dammit the Red Dogs
And Ramparts running rampant
These pigs going ham sammich
In New York killed a young brother
In Atlanta killed a grandmother
And politicians say 'save the planet'
Fuck that, save us dammit!
From the black pigs helped 'em kill Sean Bell
I hope it's five degrees hotter
For your ass in hell
Race traitin' bastard, you less than trash
I hope when Jesus come back
He murder your ass
So you burn in hell 'til you turn white ash
To the one that say 'sorry'
Tell' em 'kiss our ass'
We don't need em motherfucker you
Can keep it for yourself
I wish you nothing but pain and bad health
I hope luck run away from you and wealth
No honor in life no honor in death
You a Judas to us, nigga kill yourself
No Negro leaders have fought for civil rights
They have begged for civil rights
They have begged the white
Man for civil rights
They have begged the white man for freedom
And anytime you beg another man
To set you free you will never be free
Freedom is something you have
To do for yourselves
And until the American Negro lets
The white man know that we are really really
Ready and willing to
Pay the price that is necessary for freedom
Our people will always be walking
Around and second class
Citizens or what you call
Twentieth century slaves
(What price are you talking about sir?)
The price of freedom is death
Writer(s): O'NEIL NORMAN BRYAN, STONE, D. SMITH
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, O/B/O DistroKid, Word Collections Publishing
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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