Dead Man Walking

I don't remember my mama, dad sold crack all night.
My life was fucked from the jumpstreet, now this kite I write.
Never had half a fuckin chance, my whole trial I was broke.
Circumstantial that's bullshit, my defense was a joke!

(You go in a motherfuckin courtroom,
with a fuckin public defender - the public
defender works with the fuckin D. A.!
Motherfuckers ain't got no chance, you
ain't got no money you're fucked, you're fucked!)

Now this cell is my residence, my address is The Row.
24 hour lock down, when they'll kill me who knows?

Guilty - we the unfree!
Dead men walking
Guilty - we the unfree!
Dead men walking

I'm a genius from books now, Never read on the street.
Never lifted a fuckin weight, now my boys concrete.
Filed a hundred appeals or more, no response from the state.
Get no phone calls or visits, My mentality's hate!

(When I was on the street I had motherfuckin boys, where's my bitch?
She won't even accept my fuckin phone calls! Yo, they better not let me
up out this motherfucka , you this shit's on, fuck that word!)

I get visits from doctors, analyzing the ill.
Families pray for my death now, vengeance lays for the kill.

(Does the defendant have any final words
he would like to say to the court?
Yeah, I got somethin I'd like to say.
Yo, you, judge, you a racist motherfucker.
I feel like bustin your motherfuckin... no, let
me go... I'm gonna kill everyone one of you
jurors. If I ever get out of here, I'm comin one by one
and blow your motherfuckin brains out. You motherfuckers!
No, keep your motherfuckin hands off! Fuck that!)

So I think 'bout my past now, my future holds only pain.
Involuntarily drugged by the state for years, now I know I'm insane.
When I'm moved shackled hands and feet, my skin's covered in ink.
I read the bible 'bout twenty-five times, now fuck god's how I think!

(You can save all that religious bullshit,
stay the fuck out of my cell. If that priest
comes in my cell, I'm a bust him in the -
I'll break your fuckin neck with my bare hands, fuck that.)

So live your life to the fullest, but remember don't trip.
One mistake you're my neighbor, and there's no one here rich!

You're F**kin' With BC

Do you know who you're fuckin with?

The ill niggas!
You're fuckin with the kill niggas!
You're fuckin with the hard liquor!
You're fuckin with the bitch dickas!

You're fuckin with the cash makin, life takin, overlord,
street hustlin, quick bustin, snitch dustin, body dumpin, gauge pumpin,
clean dresser, mic blesser, shallow graves are in the desert,
fuckin with my niggas from the Central, why? You'll die!
I can make ya missin fuckin with the unforgiven,
cop killer, blood spiller, but still a million seller.
Run and tell your fuckin mother,
Body Count is on the cover, of Murder Monthly,
bitch best back up off me.

You're fuckin with BC.
You're fuckin with BC.
You're fuckin with BC.
Do you know who you're fuckin with?

Ghetto dwellin, drug sellin, pussy suckin, hard fuckin,
drive by'n, do or die'n, bitch smackin, cash stackin,
switch hittin, game spittin, hustlin's how I make my livin,
hit ridin, pit fightin, motherfuckin street titan.
Gang related, frustated, gun tote'n, ransome note'n,
park muggin, born thuggin, jewelry wearer, hood terror.
Steppin's where you made your error,
now you're bleedin, heart speedin.
Now you feel your life leavin,
Yo, your fuckin mom's grievin.

The ill niggas!
The kill niggas!

Benz mashin, club crashin, high fashion, jewelry bashin,
child snatcher, hoe catcher, neck slasher.
Mic rippin, set trippin, coke boilin, gun oil'n,
car jackin, head crackin, bank robbin, roof jobbin,
laser scope'n, hostage ropin,
known to get your safe open,
shoot you in your back nigga, the hair trigga.
Banana clip loader, LAPD get my fuckin folder,
known killer, jaw sweller, feds dug up my fuckin cellar.
Drama maker, law breaker, violent talker, pig stalker,
Shot gunner, drug runner, blowin up this fuckin summer.
Handgrenade'n, home invadin, vest wearin, cold starin,
Body Count the street vets, known to get your chest wet!

Do you know who you're fuckin with?

The ill niggas!
You're fuckin with the kill niggas!
You're fuckin with the hard liquor!
You're fuckin with the bitch dickas!
Do you know who you're fuckin with?

Dr. K

Prozac attack, feeling whacked,
my damned boss won't gimme no slack,
disconnected phone, didn't get that loan
seems like everything's going wrong unemployed
flat broke, outta luck, ain't got no hope.
When it seems like it ain't no way call up the doc
he'll be with you right away

You think your life is tough
(call Kevorkian)
you think your life is tough
(call Kevorkian)
you think you're out of luck
when you're had enough

Need some xanax,
want some pills, 'cause I don't like the
way I feel can't sleep at night, can't get no rest,
I want the grim reaper as my guest!
Missed my bus, missed my plane,
life seems like a constant pain
think it's bad could be worse, call the doc up
he'll pick you up in a hearse.

Last Days

Last days,
last days.

As I stare off the stage and try to
understand why you feel that I am
someone you can id with, how?
When you and I come from two totally polar opposite lifestyles.
Under normal circumstances I would be
waking you and your rich parents up at gunpoint.
Demanding the combination to the wall safe.
While your little sister screams suffering from pistol-whipped pain.
Or looking back at you in a courtroom
filled with absolutely none of my peers.
Why are you here? Is this some voyeuristic bullshit?
See black man sing?
Or maybe, just maybe, you've been subjected to so many audio drive by's
and gang shootings that you yourself have
become numb to the pain like me.
And you - check this out - have become
insane from overdoses of reality.
Well stomach this, at the rate we're
going right now white boy, yeah you, you
and I will die holding each other's throats.
That's real, the world's at war, we're at war.
Check yourself, don't be me check your goddamn self.
It's goin down 1997, see the light, red
lasers rip through my neighborhood at night, time is short.
Homocide is the number one sport.

Last days,
last days,
these are the last days.

So now that all the reality's soaked, I and
you start to reanalyze every word I ever said, am I a racist?
Or am I just someone who tells it how the fuck it is?
Well the truth of the thing is I was raised on crime.
Walking through an environment so filled with so much hate,
honesty I do not feel that you are able to
comprehend the magnitude of the evil.
But trip this, there were no white faces there.
Just blck on black genocide.
The only white men there were the cops
that showed up late in the fourth to outline
the teenaged bodies in chalk.
So who do I hate? Do I hate you? Do I hate myself?
Or possibly am I intelligent enough to only
hold the conditions of the ghetto itself to blame? - Not!
Who creates the conditions?
Who stops affirmative action and welfare?
Who loves the 3 strikes law?
Didn't see 'em at the Million Man March,
Or the three hundred and fifty-thousand
man march, let your daddy tell it.
There's a lotta lies out there, what side ya on?
Armageddon is near,
I am the fourth rider of the apocalypse, recogize game.

Last days, these are the last days.
Last days, these are the last days.
Last days, these are the last days.
Last days.

(But maybe I'm all wrong, maybe everything is ok.
Maybe we're all just gonna get along.
Maybe I'm trippin, maybe life is perfect - yeah right)

I hate you, you hate me, and what does that equal?
It equals nothing, and that's exactly what we're gonna have,
nothing, I we don't make a change soon,
and who am I to tell you anything?
I ain't nobody but a brother from South Central,
who's had the opportunity to go around the world,
and I found out that we're all not really that different.
Racism is the number one enemy of earth.
There's only one race, the human race,
and if we don't get it together soon, this song is true.
We are all living in the last days.