Rebels Without Applause - Paris, T-K.A.S.H.

Yeah, yeah

Haha!

I’m representin' where the sun set

Guerrilla Funk and we still ain’t done yet

T-K.A.S.H.

and the «Bush Killa,» one threat

One sniper on the rooftop, one vet

Now come get with this West coast revolutionary tag team

Republican bad dream, blitzin' the rap scene

Pullin' over Five-O, profilin' white folks

Rewirin' Diebolds, why you lie under oath

I’ma let the fo' pancake, drag and scrape

Drive by the county jail with a hand grenade

It’s a planned escape, Tomie Kash take the wheel

As I throw it at the gate for the Panther 8

While you sucker butts trippin' off job cuts, I just

Keep a Glock tucked for the FBI

Like a Walter Reed patient, they’ll let me die

For my deadly vibe, but instead we ride

Real revolution, actual solution

You can clap if you want but it ain’t 'bout that

Hard Truth the movement, more than just music

The respect of the ghetto is where it’s at

See we make the hood mobilize

Rise up cause they 'posed to rise, ride on you cause they 'posed to ride

For the Hard Truth Soldier side

When you see this motorcade unload and drive

Come slow from behind

And let the automatic make a hole from behind

The rich stay panicked, but the po' don’t mind

If piggies get blasted, just those hasslin' brown and black kids

We some West coast classics, left vote passing

No wackness, no braggin', so active

Freedom and equality we gon' have it

Known assassins known for blastin' Dog and K.A.S.H

On and crackin', fo'-fo's and masks

For po-po's harrassin po' folks with passion

Hard truth soldiers, our troops home right now

Or the nine millimeter might blaow

Real revolution, actual solution

You can clap if you want but it ain’t 'bout that

Hard Truth the movement, more than just music

The respect of the ghetto is where it’s at

The hood know my name, I’m good with the game

If Cheney got shot then I would get the blame

Even though I didn’t do it, the feds can’t stand to see

A revolutionary with the ghetto influence

By the way I talk turf, and still spit the real

On the way they got work, for kids in the hills

But they only got purp, and pills where it is

Mo' liquor stores than church, the dead folks go on shirts

I’m T-K.A.S.H., the pride of the underground

Guerrilla Funk, never ride to another sound

Make a politician run and hide when they come around

Cause of how I instruct hounds to gun ya down

The government make scratch mo'

Than my home girl who be spinnin for my potna with the afro

Black folks stack dough, scratch the smoke

Subtract dope, add hope and vote, like that doe!

Real revolution, actual solution

You can clap if you want but it ain’t 'bout that

Hard Truth the movement, more than just music

The respect of the ghetto is where it’s at

Real revolution, actual solution

You can clap if you want but it ain’t 'bout that

Hard Truth the movement, more than just music

The respect of the ghetto is where it’s at