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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Lyricist: Bodycount
Lyrics:
1994 BC still in the house They did Everything they could do to take us out But like any good monster that just made us stronger You see, they don't like us and they don't like you, The BC fan, 'Cause they know we stand for three things Truth, justice and fuck the american way That word justice got me fucked up though Twenty cops in the street, two go to jail Thousands of people died in wars Overseas and it's justice ? You think they give a fuck about us ? You're a fool
Born yellow, Born brown, Born red, Born black, Born dead Dead Born dead
Born asian, Born jewish, Born latino, Born poor, Born dead Dead Born dead
But you don't hear me though
Dead New York , Atlanta, Chicago, Oakland, Miami, Detroit
Every day I gotta get out my muthafuckin' bed, Put on my muthafuckin' gun, Down in my muthafuckin' gun, Down in my muthafuckin' pants, 'cause Muthafucka's out here is trippin'
How the fuck you gonna get up every morning Tryin' to worry about if you gonna make it to the next evening Do you understand ? Sometimes we take for granted The little things like food, like freedom
Born in somalia, Born in south america, Born in south africa, Born in south central, Born dead Dead
Born dead
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