Not Yet Free

Not Yet Free Lyrics

Song	Not Yet Free
Artist	The Coup
Album	Kill My Landlord
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Davis, Riley
	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

	zuo ci : Davis, Riley
	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 twentyone, 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 uhhuh
	blam
	e seeya!
	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
	semiautomatic
	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
	semiautomatic
	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

	zuò cí : Davis, Riley
	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 twentyone, 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 uhhuh
	blam
	e seeya!
	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
	semiautomatic
	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
	semiautomatic
	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

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