Bring It On - MC Ren

Good evening, this is the truth hour

And don’t you touch that dial

Just stay tuned in, to the truth hour

I didn’t come to lighten up, I came to tighten up

Niggas, here I come, black nigga, the guerrilla

Busting shit, who is it?

— it's the Bitch Made Nigga Killa

I control the streets, shit is all underground

Niggas gotta step the fuck back, when I come around

Nigga, fuck the police, the white one, the black one

The Mexican, the Japanese can all suck deez

Cause how in the fuck can you serve this government?

That be plotting to kill niggas, they want to steal niggas

Here we are today, 30, 40 million strong

Handkerchief-headed niggas saying ain’t shit wrong

Niggas don’t give a fuck about your three strikes

That’s why I give you hell when I’m busting on the mic

I got niggas in the cut of the ninety-one

Niggas in the streets selling heaters, I’mma find me one

And off them devils off from the shack

Fools going crazy cause that nigga Ren is back

What’s up, dawg?

— it's on once again, let them fools know

When we’re coming through, we’re straight giving you the voo doo

Keep it real, if you like it or you don’t

Working hard like bugs, straight have know what the fuck we want

I bought a house in the suburbs

Next to the homie Wade, I made a killing off them birds

White folks straight mad as fuck

Because I’m rolling in a Benz and a 30.000 dollar truck

Yo, I takes mine, yo, when I shakes mine

On the real, the government labels me a flatline

And Uncle Sam gives a fuck about me

That’s why I’m spitting in this phase on the Ren LP

Yo, he more wicked then a horror flick

Think you won’t, high powered mandate to a five dollar bitch

Yo, they say America the land of the free

But the first thing I have seen was slavery, fool

So is you scared of me?

Four hundred and thirty nine years of slavery (Slavery)

And we still ain’t free

But we supposed to act like we’re living in harmony

(Bring it on, you’ve got to bring it on)

I pledge allegi' to the flag

When I’m rolling down the block in my ride

But it’s … it’s your rag

Yeah, I stick hand tight

I drop a kit to my nigga in the pen doing ten

I put a nigga in a cage, but I’m never on his back

While Uncle Sam straight stack

I wish they let them fly like the pigeon in the wind

But every nigga in the pen alive

With one point to get every 3−65

Say you gotta keep up, if you’re on the main line

You gotta hurt some, while you’re in the show-line

So if you wanna survive don’t let them eyes sleep

Even when you hustle on the streets

Yeah, break myself never

However, I’m in this so scrilla

The Clinic gang running thangs up, so I smoke trouble

Gathering up at the shack, cause Ren’s got my back

187's got a sack, and I got a sack

So bring it on, we get the whole country high

Above the Law, the crooked letter, and here’s the plot

Then they get upset, cause we set up shop, in their hoods

And start slanging them no goods

We should go uptown, and poison the suburbs

Have all them white fellows straight going to the curb

Instead they slide down to our block

Just to get a bit of that Peruvian rock

Ain’t no gun factories in Gardena

Ain’t no poppy fields popping out in Pomona

I bought my steel from a white man

My works from the S-A-M

My interiors be looking hitting corners, uh

You with me?

Cause I got to drop this stuff tonight

Because I’m a truth terrorist

I’m a knowledge gangster

I’m a black history hitman

I’m a lie killer, urban guerrilla

I gotta be a roughneck

I gotta be a roughneck

It’s the only way I know to go