Farhad Ebrahimi - The Last Straw (Part Two Thousand) lyrics

[Various voices in crowd] I need a dollar-- need to hit the stall to call the mall. Anybody can give it to me - y'all or y'all or y'all. Put it down next the wall and I'll holler holler. C'mon y'all or y'all, all I need is a dollar. Need to hit the stall to call the mall. Anybody can give it to me y'all or y'all... ...naw man, the cops shot some homeless black dude Hey Gudder, you got pot? ...I guess I'm not shopping today... ...what's happening on? Is it Kwanzaa or something... ...I wanna feel like I belong to something… See, white people keep on puttin all their sh** on us, dumpin sinful stuff, lettin it rust. Now we're covered in a ring of trash. They hear us singing and claim they're discoverin how to be human beings. But I don't match their theories. I could speak clearly, but they'd never listen to me they can't hear me. So bring it back now down past Lincoln ashes. They be on some ring of trash sh**. The upper right side of the screen is just a dumpster. That's it! And television wants to show my black a** with a head of a monster. It's partly tied to opposites. Police sketches just reflect the dark side of the populous. Man this sh**'s apartheid, I should just... ...and then it spread to white and got everyone's undivided attention... They had a big boat for a cruise. And a whale jumped over the boat, and he was blue. And he didn't flew. He only jumped and then, you know what? Um... I thought of something else. The people were surprised. They thought he was rude, but mom, he was just being himself! ..but I'm a little scared, cuz I don't really know how time works. When it comes down to it I hope that I'm first. My ryhmes burst with the way I feel for you, the way I'd lie, cheat Beg, borrow, steal, for you keep it real for you when you give me the right smile if you Want me too I'll change my lifestyle I'm stuck on you but I'm not gonna free my hand You're the type of woman make a boy... Hip-hop hip-hop, everybody hip-hop. Just got the producer here in this shop. f** that other ba*tard's here and it's hot. Yes ya'll -- we're down with the real, the real... ...impossible, impossible... ...and at that time my wife was in the hospital... ...we've reached the d**h of the metanarrative, end of the line. Now it's "sampled", circling, cycling line segments of time... ...hovering over the benches, no you know, them new ones you can't sleep on, yeah them blue ones... ...I wouldn't, maybe you would, I don't know maybe you couldn't, I don't know but I could but I wouldn't... ...the part that's frightening./ What's hard is/deciding that you never/start a fight. Well we already/ tried. That's how my father/ died, and it wasn't worth/ it. Plus it doesn't/ work cuz I hurt half a/ dozen jerks tryin to jack/ my cousin's shirt ...working with a totally lame gun dude, and he stroked so hard his hand became numb, dude Who? That one dude... ...your own little slice of life one for each one of us, blue pie and everyone gets a piece... No justice, no peace [Speech: Revolvr] Brothers and sisters.. Brothers and sisters... Brothers and sisters, I give up You can tell the government I've had enough This game isn't fun anymore so that's it Ladies and gentlemen, I quit Man, cuz they shot him— Wanted to get him off of the bench, and they got him Couldn't tolerate so awful a stench But he's rotten now and he still smells foul Six feet from the bottom he was still too proud So they lynched him. Yes- Because of his race They rinsed him with the blood from a hole in his face He lay still, but they still put him in his place Still Black Taking Too Much Space So hey... Don't tell me about nonviolence Don't tell me about Martin Luther King Don't tell me about Due Process Don't tell me what songs to sing Don't tell me about healing, staring at the ceiling, appealing to the most high Don't tell me about dialogue Don't tell me about both sides Don't tell me about race relations, patience, "be more like the Asians" Don't tell me how I'm feeling, really, don't tell how I'm feeling Don't tell me bout quiet Don't tell me about nonviolence My great great-grampa died in the Tulsa race riots and it was violent And it was twilit on the ground in the town when they k**ed everybody inside it And then denied it and tried to hide it This is the sound of silence But don't tell me about nonviolence Don't tell me about nonviolence Don't tell me about nonviolence til bombs stop droppin on Caribbean islands Don't tell me bout "we shall overcome", pig, while ya holdin a gun Don't tell me turn the other cheek, faker Don't tell me bout the peacemakers Don't tell me about Quakers Don't tell me about King Don't tell me about Gandhi Don't tell me about dreams Don't tell me about how if you just work hard you can make it Don't tell me about risk takers Don't tell me about sh**, faker! I want my mule and my forty acres! Don't tell me about non-violence Don't tell me about non-violence Don't tell us about non-violence What you know about non-violence What you know about non-violence