Body Count - Body Count

You know sometimes I sit at home, you know

And I watch T.V. and I wonder what it would be like

To live someplace like, you know, the Cosby show

Ozzie and Harriet, you know, where

Cops come and got your cat outta the tree

All your friends died of old age

But you see, I live in South Central Los Angeles and unfortunately…

SHIT AIN’T LIKE THAT!

IT’S REAL FUCKED UP!

Goddamn what a brotha gotta do

To get a message through

To the red, white and blue?

What I gotta die

Before you realize

I was a brotha with open eyes?

The world’s insane

While you drink champagne

And I’m livin' in black rain

You try to ban the A.K.,

I got ten of 'em stashed

With a case of hand grenades

Tell us what to do… Fuck you!

Tell us what to do… Fuck you!

Tell us what to do… Fuck you!

Tell us what to do… Fuck you!

You know what you’d do

If a kid got killed on the way to school

Or a cop shot your kid in the backyard

Shit would hit the fan, muthafucka

And it would hit real hard

I hear it every night, another gunfight

The tension mounts

On with the Body Count

Yo, Beatmaster, take these muthafuckas

To South Central

Ha ha

Yeah

Fuck that

I hear it every night

Another gunfight

The tension mounts

On with the Body Count

Last weekend thirty-seven kids killed in gang warfare

In my backyard

No!

No!

No!

Yo, Ernie C., take these muthafuckas home

Yeah

Yeah, we in the house, Body Count fools, 1991 muthafuckas

I hear it every night

Another gunfight

The tension mounts

On with the Body Count

Goddamn what a brotha gotta do

To get a message through

To the red, white and you?

What I gotta die before you realize

I was a nigga with open eyes?

The world’s insane

While you drink champagne

And I’m livin' in black rain

Don’t you hear the guns

You stupid, dumb, dick suckin', bum politicians

Tell us what to do… Fuck you!

Tell us what to do… Fuck you!

The tension mounts…