Tom: Ab major•
Intro 1
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Verse 1
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Come,
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I'm P- Dog, with the shit
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now I'm fin' to get scandalous
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Huh, and tell y'all about a brain disease
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A act up it's a shame disease
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you still don't act right up
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Wait a minute, let me get my facts right
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When I say that we all
don't act the same
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Just a handful want to salt the game
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So I gotta roll deep
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Check your grip and don't smile,
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Damn shame but it's like that
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'Cause some got hard heads like
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bricks that don't crack
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Raised up on TV
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Fast food and fast times,
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do or die G
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Without nut tin' to lose but a war
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And here life don't mean shit
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to die for
Verse 2
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yeah
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{"Every brother
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ain't a brother"}
Be'le dat!
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{"Every brother ain't a
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brother"}
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Sellin' your soul,
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don't sell your soul man, yo
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{"Every brother ain't a
brother"}
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{"You got my back and I
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The reporter looked just like me or you
Verse 3
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But that don't mean the man was cool
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He understood when I said that
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it was death to integrate
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'Cause integrate means as
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But the media, hate the youth
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Love to spread lies and dis
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They say the pen is stronger
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But the sword'll give any
house nigga his just reward!
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So let the beat just roll on, huh
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While the weak get told on
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I'm P- Dog, tellin' you the actual fact
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Is just cause the skin is black
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It ain't about us comin' up
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To them, it's about us
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It's a shame but no strain
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It's plain, some,
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are sleeping with the enemy
Verse 4
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C' mon!
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Yeah
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Yeah!
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Verse 5
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Boom,
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Gotta give a shout to the
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few that's never sellin' out
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P- Dog, I never slipe or slide,
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As long as in control I know I'm
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born to be a martyr
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Huh, and I'ma keep on rappin' with
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The facts, that I keep on smashin' shit
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No props 'cause it doesn't really mat
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ter bout the color of the cop
And now I hate police so I won't stop
See the punk bitch get mad, huh
I ain't the one for a toe tag
You best believe when you
see me on the street
I be a motherfucker ready for the
static with a glock automatic!
So let me tell you why I hate pigs
The black gestapo,
ultimate house nigga
Simply because a brother
wantin' to be with a plan
That want to kill off and cage the black man
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Ain't never runnin' from the U.S.A.
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Punk, land of the weak, freak,
home of the slave
And I ain't goin' to Clarence cause the
appearance is clear to me
Some punks, are sleepin' with the enemy
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesCbm Cm Bm Am G#...
Cbm
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