Skipp Coon & Mister Nick - 4-28-1967 Pt. 2 lyrics

[Verse 1: Skipp Coon] See all I gotta be is what Jack said I was so I don't give a bee about no buzz I am about freedom I never mind the chickens or the club I will live and die for the cause just because If I don't I wonder who will Ya'll place value on your wheels and your automobiles But never acknowledge your children's diminishing sk**s Or that they continue to fill all the prisons they build My life is all God gave me to give I want us to be free, but you would really rather I chill While the blood of the slaughtered is watering k**ing fields You jiving and shucking. She stripping and s**ing for the bills All for the love of the bread cheese dough. Sell pills weed blow Let pistols go. Got coke from the countras, gave crack to the po' And the government responds to it: "Just say no" I'm freedom fighting for the love, you selling out on the low And a man ain't fit to live without something he'd die for I'm in the truck with a rifle like I'm Lee Malvo Ya'll want a Sambo, well I'm Skipp Rambo Jordans and camo, white tees and ammo Put the freedom in the kick snare and the sample I am Rambo Put the freedom in the kick snare and the sample [Verse 2: David Banner] f** it then I'm Shaft don't have no ammo No spook. I don't sit, I'll kick in your front door Malcolm with a K or Medgar with four fours There was bodies severed but we don't know what we're fighting for Five and the six we bang on the wrong thing Let's fight against the people that came and names change Transatlantic trips that led to bodies hanging from a tree It's cool to ship a Ki You won't fight against the system but you're worried 'bout me And who I won't sign. But you gonna find That they gon' put it in a chip and embed it in your mind And all off in your spine. Confederate flags I'm b**hing because that b**h still flying I would give you the answer but we're running out of time (Kids still dying) [Verse 3: Luca Brazi] See they don't want to listen so loud what I got to be Cause my people are proud of the poverty That got they sons shooting guns over dollar bills He getting money snow or sunny But his daughter still read at a first grade level And she eleven years old and her nose held high to the sky Cause she got her first purse made, yes on her birthday She was singing birthday s** Let's skim right over what's showing in plain sight Looking the other way but knowing it ain't right Like over 50 shots now Sean Bell gone Or a flash bang thrown in a little girl's home Aiyana Jones. Who? Aiyana Jones One shot to the dome she was seven years old It's a shame Imagine being daddy one day to putting your baby girl in the grave Something need to change This ain't a game If you playing to the mayhem you be slaving to the day you laying face up in a casket With credit card sharks still asking if they can put your name on some plastic Man there's a war going on outside no one is safe from Heavy is the dark, a spark Imma create one Cause a little light might be enough to make some stray from the ways of the slave The pain and the hunger is enough to make a sane man put it to your brain for some money and a chain And I don't really blame 'em cause if you in the game screaming money ain't a thing You resemble a filet A lot of people saying that I'm preaching to the deaf Man give that sh** a rest. I'm going till the breath Won't come out a n***a chest. They in it for the checks I'm in it cause I want to be remembered as a vet Luc Brazi