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I'm Black Lyrics

from The World Is Yours

"I'm Black" is track #5 on the album The World Is Yours. It was written by Johnson, Joseph/jordan, Brad.
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"I'm Black" is track #5 on the album The World Is Yours. It was written by Johnson, Joseph/jordan, Brad.
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They try to take advantage of a nigga 'cause I'm black
They lookin' at me strange, so I'm lookin' at they ass back
I got a little problem, so I'm writin' you a note
A letter to the KKK from the black folks

I'm tryin' to get it on, tryin' to check the grip
And there goes officer cracker tryin' to sink my fuckin' battleship
Turnin' on his flashers, callin' up the dogs
Now my Lexus Coupe is flex surrounded by the hogs

Snatchin' out my seats, tellin' me I sell dope
Am I on probation or parole? I tell 'em fuck, no
Tell me Mister Officer, what's the problem? What's the matter?
Why you gotta treat us like scum?

Is it that a nigga's doin' a tad bit better than you?
And brutality is all that you crackers can do
And mark me up for resistin' yo ass
When in reality officer friendly kicked my ass, damn

You overflex your authority too
Put your foot in my shoe and let me try on your boot
So I can run it in reverse
You can treat me like God and I can treat you like dirt

The 22 years I been here, I saw
Motherfuckers disrespect God before they disrespect the law
But yo, I gots to diss 'em
'Cause I refuse to be mislead by this ungodly system

Mister President, I beatin' on yo back do'
I make yo mind doin' rap but I'm black doe, nigga

"We are United States of America, you honestly believe
Just because you wear bags that means you care?
You have the right to abuse and treat my people
Like they're animals on the street? I'll be damned
Your bloods will flow with the hands of the black man
In the same streets that you killed me and my brothers in"

Mister Mister Officer, Mister Officer, Mister Sergeant
Just because I'm young and I'm black, I'm a target?
You say I'm sellin' dope but you fake
'Cause young dope dealers flash cash and make mistakes

And besides we ain't dealin' no mo'
Look at my hood, we ain't killin' no mo'
So everybody's yellin' peace
The only war that's goin' on is goin' on with the police

'Cause they ain't stoppin' with the bullshit
If they could they'd lock us up with some chains and swing a bull whip
'Cause they figure they're the master
And they can take you to jail or take your lifes

Them sorry bastards that makes me wonder why
The Five-O can determine if we live or if a nigga dies
And to me, that shit is bull
Only God can take life but I still gotta watch the law

It's bad enough, I watch the next G but even worse
I gots to watch the motherfuckers who protect me
They fuckin' packin' gats, yo
They serve and protect, they don't respect 'cause I'm black, hoe

"Every black man that is a car jacker will start jackin'
Police cars and watch jaw brains shad on the dashboard
Why when you pull us over you show us your pistols
Beforeyou asks us for our drivers license? Somethin' is not right"

Rollin' through my hood in my motherfuckin' dropper
Gettin' tailgated by a motherfuckin' copper
But I ain't got respect for you motherfuckin' dickheads
'Cause y'all was straight hoes back in school, nerdy shitheads

I finally figured out why you bitches roll in packs
'Cause niggas who ain't shit talk loud and pack gats
You got a fuckin' pistol, now you think you're a VIP man
But you can get cut because you'd be just like the next man

Holdin' me for nothin', runnin' my fuckin' license plates
My plates come clean, you call the DEA
The DEA says I'm a known drug dealer
Straight born killer, a motherfuckin' wig splitter

He don't know shit about a nigga but I'm black
As far as he's concerned, all niggas push crack
And plus I'm 22 that really makes 'em check
A drop-top Benz, Lexus Coupe, no respect

I gotta be doin' long, I'm hidin' somethin' from the demons
He gotta be stringin' yale, let's play someone that's pregnant
'Cause niggas can't have shit but I'm a motherfuckin' troop

You come to us like Luke, Undercover David Duke
Mister David Duke, Mister officer, Mister Mister Master
I'm pickin' out your coffin, Sir

Die motherfuckers, I'll send your folks my worst
A breast of pig in a motherfuckin' hearse
So fuck you motherfuckers, punk bitches take that
'Cause I'm real with the shit that I speak 'cause I

[Unverified]

Songwriters
JOHNSON, JOSEPH/JORDAN, BRAD

Published by
Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

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