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Viewing Lyrics for sharp shooters:

Artist:Talib Kweli and Dead Prez
No album artwork found
Album:L.L. 2
Track:sharp shooters
 
Date Added:18/10/2007
Rating:not yet rated     
Views:345
 
Lyrics:stic.man)
Everything is politics Kweli people army you know it

(M 1)

The white man came to Africa with rifles and Bibles
Heard the name started changin the
titles
Now instead of Chaka call me Nat Turner with the burner
Freedom fighter for
this revolution fuck a wave journer
See I be what John Wilkes Booth was to Lincoln blam!

Sirhan Sirhan peepin through the curtains with my eyes on a Kennedy
Dead prez,
politic, know your enemy, keep your toast close
Because political power come from the barrel
of it
We in a war, nigga leave it or love it
Since they got us in a scope like a P.E.
logo
I watch for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the dojo
Not a gun Deniro but a
working class hero
Takin a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Guran
Screamin know your
gun laws, self defense is a must
When we set it off I'm a be the first to bust


(Chorus - dead prez)
Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son
It protects
me and makes sure the jakes respect me
Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son

It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me

(Talib Kweli)
What
do you do
when the police kick in your door like 'get on the floor'
Shoot you in the
back
cause who you are and where you at's against the law
You try to protect your home
with the illest arsenal possible
Learn how to heal yourself and stop fuckin with them
hospitals
Get with brothas down for the cause givin it all they got
But every brother
ain't a brother (word), fuck around and get shot
By these black kings that pack gatlings

to make a rat sing like Nat King
Before they start blasting (blow!)
With no
accuracy, handling they beef in the public
Now an innocent child got a bag for a stomach

Property value plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon)
People feelin betrayed so
they take the street to riot
Cops fire shots and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire
block
Politicians say it's time to march
But people is past that, ready to blast at
whatever comin
From the master or from the office, niggas is sick of runnin
Yeah, all
my soldier, raise it up, c'mon, now
(Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with dead prez, c'mon

(Blow blow)

(stic.man)
I'm deep in the runs
where all that niggas give
a fuck about is stackin funds
The black and young type that's packin automatic guns
If
any static comes sparatic shots'll ring out
You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains
blown clean out
The killers reign supreme, survival of the illest brain and scheme
For
cream you know the game in my vein
I feel the pain for all the niggas that passed away

Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old fashion way
Blastin, we actin like
cock tecs and tenniments
My squad flex if any shit pop, and put an end to it
It's like
hell, this planet I'm from consist of dilligent crack sale
Assisting off the backs of young
black males
It's innocent, suspending in packed jails that benefit
White well being,
while niggas catch hell just for being
You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin
free in this life
I stick a nine in ya spine for mine
No time for talk, 'cause I walk
when I talk
Stalkin sidewalks of course with the eyes of a hawk
Crack a quart to get
away from this trife world and thought
Puffin Newports 'cause life's a bitch, and it's too
short
My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, rugged denim
Deadly in venom, totin
buckets with nothin in 'em
But Rawkus, some ill mothafuckas for real
Straight hustlas
with nothin but a taste for kill

(Chorus) 4x

(Talib Kweli talking)

Yeah, c'mon, all my soldiers
Brooklyn where you at
Florida, Cincinnati where
you at
Africa where you at, yo
 
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