Body Count - Body Count Lyrics
You know sometimes I sit at home, you know,And I watch t.v. and I wonder what it would be likeTo live someplace like, you know, the cosby show,Ozzie and harriet, you know, whereCops come and got your cat outta the treeAll your friends died of old age,But you see, I live in south central los angeles and unfortunately...Shit aint like that! its real *****ed up!Goddamn what a brotha gotta doTo get a message throughTo the red, white and blue?What I gotta dieBefore you realizeI was a brotha with open eyes?The worlds insaneWhile you drink champagneAnd Im livin in black rain.You try to ban the a.k.,I got ten of em stashedWith a case of hand grenades.Tell us what to do... ***** you!Tell us what to do... ***** you!Tell us what to do... ***** you!Tell us what to do... ***** you!You know what youd doIf a kid got killed on the way to schoolOr a cop shot your kid in the backyard.Shit would hit the fan, mutha*****aAnd it would hit real hard.I hear it every night, another gunfight,The tension mounts,On with the body count.Yo, beatmaster v, take these mutha*****asTo south central.Ha ha.Yeah***** 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 mutha*****as home.Yeah.Yeah, we in the house, body count fools, 1991 mutha*****as.I hear it every night,Another gunfight,The tension mounts,On with the body count.Goddamn what a brotha gotta doTo get a message throughTo the red, white and you?What I gotta die before you realizeI was a nigga with open eyes?The worlds insaneWhile you drink champagneAnd Im livin in black rain,Dont you hear the gunsYou stupid, dumb, dick suckin, bum politicians.Tell us what to do... ***** you!Tell us what to do... ***** you!The tension mounts...
