Not Yet Free lyrics

Artist  : The 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