Текст песни Public Enemy - I Stand Accused

Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age
Жанр: Hardcore Rap
Исполнитель: Public Enemy
Альбом: Muse Sick-n-Hour Mess Age
Длительность: 03:57
Рейтинг: 732
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: MaxOfMobbDeep


I see I`m peeking out ready to rumble So now I`m speaking out Against those That flip the way the story goes One never knows Who be flippin the script Whatever the traitors name My aim is dunk em like I`m Chris Webber So many phony smilin faces Traces of slander Got em comin outta funny places I had it an hear em Talkin loud behind my back What was good for the hood Is what they say is wack I take the stabbin & grin When I`m hit Cause I know the suckas smile When I leave em What I`m comin wit I cant complain about the money Although the suckas in the back They talkin shit An laughin like its somethin funny I aim to make changes An never change Unless its for the better Cause I always been a go better Clean hustler Rhyme instead of muscle ya Born when ya thinkin I`m gone The terror era is on… I stand accused To the crews I paid my dues I stand accused I refuse To stand and lose I stand accused To the news I kick da blues I stand accussed I refuse I hear em talkin & walkin Behind my back I`m attacked Fuck the knife in the back Cause it feels like they got an axe Yeah I can dig it wit a shovel I never dig dirt wit the devil Instead I`m on that other level But I took time to reach down To help the black & brown I never stood around I hear em talkin behind My mind In a ocean of sharks And a back full a hackmarks They say I`m fallin off Yeah, they better call it off & get muscle & find another hustle quick Sick n tired of critics But I can take a hit I`m all man Alley oopin the vocal on jams But they dont know it They can blow it & take a puff of dis joint I see I`m kissin it off the cuff Behind the back I`m pullin axes and blades out the arms & the legs Still my fellas get paid The terror era is on Fuck a critic/fuck fuck a critic All the fuckin critics Can get the did dit All a fuckin critic does is Draw a fuckin line Cross a line and dis my rhyme & then they ass is mine If you find a critic dead Remember what I said Who killed a critic Guess the crew did it Say paybacks a crazy ass message Sent to the writers who criticize They`re fuckin wit afreedom fighter Who raises flags & dragged the klan in bodybags I hung em up in Missisippi & bum fuck This is Chuck so what the hell You think I did it for To open doors from Carolina to Arkansas And lemme let em I met em I told my boys forget em An what they did got rid of me Negative But 94 got stunts & blunts in da mix I hear the crowd fallin vic To old ghetto tricks But if I wasn`t your cousin Wed leave em in the dozens Of sellin out & bellin out Half pint 40 ounce Announce to the rest We had a fall out I never took a drink Never took a hit or bribe Or got spread by what a silly Rumor said Never sang or gang banged Sold out or rented hip hop Cause I know when to stop
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