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...
sh*t AIN'T LIKE THAT! IT'S REAL fu*kED 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... f** you!
Tell us what to do... f** you!
Tell us what to do... f** you!
Tell us what to do... f** you!
You know what you'd do
If a kid got k**ed on the way to school
Or a cop shot your kid in the backyard
sh** would hit the fan, muthaf**a
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 muthaf**as
To South Central
Ha ha
Yeah
f** that
I hear it every night
Another gunfight
The tension mounts
On with the Body Count
Last weekend thirty-seven kids k**ed in gang warfare
In my backyard
No!
No!
No!
Yo, Ernie C., take these muthaf**as home
Yeah
Yeah, we in the house, Body Count fools, 1991 muthaf**as
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 n***a 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 s**in', bum politicians
Tell us what to do... f** you!
Tell us what to do... f** you!
The tension mounts...