Endangered Species (Tales From The Darkside)

ENDANGERED SPECIES (TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE) - Ice Cube (冰塊酷八)/Chuck D

All I hear is motherf**kers rappin sucotash

Livin large tellin me to get out the gang

I'm a ni**a gotta live by the trigger

How the f**k do you figure

That I can say peace and the gunshots will cease

Every cop killer goes ignored

They just send another ni**a to the morgue

A point scored- they could give a f**k about us

They rather catch us with guns and white powder

If I was old they'd probably be a friend of me

Since I'm young they consider me the enemy

They kill ten of me to get the job correct

To serve protect and break a niggas neck

Cuz I'm the one with the trunk of funk

And 'F**k tha Police' in the tape deck

You should listen to me cuz there's more to see

Call my neighborhood a ghetto cuz it houses minorities

The other color don't know you can run but not hide

These are tales from the darkside

You wanna free Africa I stare at yuh

Cuz we ain't got it too good in America

I can't f**k with them overseas

My homeboy died over a key of coc*ine

It was plain and simple

The 9mm went　to the temple

Was the sound I put the b**ch down

And ran to the schoolyard bathroom

Looked in the trash can yo it had room

So I ducked my a** in it for a minute

Covered with trash I had to lay back

Mad as f**k thinkin' about the payback

Tonite the crew gonna have a little fun

I went home and cut the barrel of my shotgun

It's gettin critical - I stole a 5 0

I let it go - drive real slow

I yelled out 'Ice Cube sucka'

The shot-gun kicked - and it murdered motherf**kers

I told you last album

When I got a sawed off bodies are hauled off

Its a shame that niggas die young

But to the light side it don't matter none

It'll be a drive by homicide

But to me its just another tale from the darkside

Standing in the middle of war

In the middle we flex

When we die we won't make +Jet+

+Ebony+ can't see to the lightside

The term they apply to us is a ni**a

Call it what you want cause I'm comin from the coroner

Sayin my rhymes with a Ph D

Who's black - don't wanna role - sells his soul

Watch his head go rollin

Who the f**k are they foolin

Nobody knows but I suppose the color of my clothes

Matches the color of the one on my face

As they wonder what's under my waist

of them gettin brown

Thats a fact got a fear on their bozack

Run run run their a** off they can not hide

Yet Cube they can't f**k with the darkside