Not Yet Free lyrics

Artist  : Coup 
Song : Not Yet Free



 Send "Not Yet Free" Ringtone to your Cell 

 Sample -- "blacks are too fuckin broke to be
republicans", ice cube
(cut and scratched by dj pam the funkstress)

Verse one: boots

In this land I can’t stand or sit
And not get shit thrown up in my face
A brotha never gets his props
I’m doin bellyflops at the department of waste
And everyday I pulls a front so nobody pulls my
card
I got a mirror in my pocket and I practice lookin
hard
I’m lookin behind me beside me ahead of me
There’ll be no feet makin tracks here instead
of me
But I can’t disregard just what the news says
to me
I’m twenty-one, so I’ve reached my life
expectancy
At any minute I could be in some shit that kills
my skinny ass
From motherfuckers doin the sellout strut or
probably oakland task
My relationship with opd has been like one big
diss
Long arm of the law, grips my dick so tight
it’s hard to even piss
So I forgot ain’t even got a pot to do it in
Up at the church they’re tellin me it’s
because I live in sin
So I grin, but nevertheless my mind won’t
dwell
I must be trippin cause I thought I was livin in
hell
Capitalism is like a spider, the web is getting
tighter
I’m struggling like a fighter, just to bust
loose
It’s like a noose asyphyxiation sets in
Just when I think I’m free it seems to me the
spider steps in
This web is made of money made of greed made of
me
Of what I have become in a parasite economy

Verse two: e roc

In the winter there’s a splinter with the smell
of the rain
And the scent of the street, but all I smell is
the pain
Of a brotha who’s a hustler and he’s stuck to
the grind
Of a sista who’s a hooker gotta sell her
behind
Desperation makes her brotha get a little more
bold
The circumstance gets deeper when it’s damp and
it’s cold
So I spend my time thinking bout the ultimate
gank
Can I get my coup together pull a move on the
bank? 
I be the picture perfect hustler for the piece of
the pie
But my daddy always taught me just to reach for
the sky
Now my dream and aspirations go from single to
hoe
As I realize there’s a million motherfuckers in
the cold
No need to be told, cause when you got a million
po’ people
Gettin ganked, by a few that are rich and evil
But it’s illegal, to wonder how they livin fat
(one two three) everybody get a gat

Verse three: boots

Ahhhhhh yeah!
Niggaz, thugs, dope dealers and pimps
Basketball players, rap stars, and simps
That’s what little black boys... are made of
Sluts, hoes, and press the naps around your beck
Broads pop that coochie, bitches stay in check
That’s what little black girls... are made of
But if we’re made of that who made us
And what can we do to change us
The oppressor tries to tame us
Here’s a foot for his anus!
Well since the days when I was shittin in
diapers
It was evident the president didn’t like us
Assassination attempts I’d root for the
snipers
My teacher told me that I didn’t know what
right was
Well she was wrong cause I knew what a right was
And a left and an uppercut, too
I had a hunch a sucker punch is what my people
got
That’s why I was constantly red, black, and
blue

Outro: e roc, boots

[e] boots, boots, boots, you wanna throw some
shots out? 
[b] ay man I ain’t done with my lyrics yet,
that’s not cool
[e] ay, but ain’t this a freestyle? 
[b] naw, this is not yet freestyle cause we not
yet free
[e] hey we gonna throw some shots out anyway
*guns are cocked*
[b] awright fuckit, who y’all wanna throw some
shots out to? 
[e] uhh whassup with that uhh bill clinton and al
gore? 
[b] aight, they the new masters up in the white
house and everything
Let’s throw some shots out
[e] yeah
*blam, blam blam*
[b] awright, what about bush? he on the way out
and everything
But I think we need a goodbye for his ass
*gun cocked*
[e] uh-huh
*blam*
[e] see-ya!
[b] awright, what about ross perot and the good
ol boys? 
*guns cocked*
[e] the who? 
[b] you know who they are, awright
*blam blam, blam*
[b] ay what about pete wilson? (whassup) that
pete wilson motherfucker
[e] yeah whassup wit him? 
[b] awright
*blam*
[e] got him!
[b] awright, ay, the l.a.p.d., *guns cocking
repeatedly throughout*
The o.p.d., the richmond p.d., detroit p.d., ay
[e] ay fuck it, fuck it, the whole, the whole
motherfuckin p.d.
[b] awright, load up
[e] yeah, here’s a loaded club for yo’ ass
*semi-automatic*
[b] awright, cool -- ay, what about these
skinheads? 
Ay check it out
[e] I can’t stand dem fools
[b] awright awright, load it up, load it up,
awright, cool
*semi-automatic*
[e] yeah, got em!
[b] ay, what about these sellout motherfuckers!
[e] who? *gun cocks*
[b] you know these sellout motherfuckers -- ellay
duharris
[e] who else? *gun cocks*
[b] tom bradley
[e] who else? *gun cocks*
[b] david dinkins, ay, line em up
[e] yeah be true to the game
*blam blam blam blam*
[b] ay, we outta ammo, what we gon do? 
[e] let’s get the fuck up outta here
[b] aight cool, we out