Sharp Shooters Lyrics

Sharp Shooters lyrics

Artist Talib Kweli & Dead Prez



Song Sharp Shooters



Typed by NLP Shit denmark Farum 3520 



lirilommen@msn.com







(stic.man)



Everything is politics,I CHIN, Kweli, people army, you know it







(M-1)



The white man came to Africa with rifles and Bibles



Heard the name, started changin the titles



Now instead of Chaka call me Nat Turner with the burner



Freedom fighter for this revolution, fuck a wave journer



See I be what John Wilkes Booth was to Lincoln, blam!



Sirhan Sirhan, peepin through the curtains with my eyes on a Kennedy



Dead prez, politic, know your enemy, keep your toast close



Because political power come from the barrel of it



We in a war, nigga leave it or love it



Since they got us in a scope like a P.E. logo



I watch for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the dojo



Not a gun Deniro but a working class hero



Takin a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Guran



Screamin know your gun laws, self defense is a must



When we set it off I'm a be the first to bust







(Chorus - dead prez)



Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son



It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me



Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son



It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me







(Talib Kweli)



What do you do 



when the police kick in your door like 'get on the floor'



Shoot you in the back



cause who you are and where you at's against the law



You try to protect your home with the illest arsenal possible



Learn how to heal yourself and stop fuckin with them hospitals



Get with brothas down for the cause givin it all they got



But every brother ain't a brother (word), fuck around and get shot



By these black kings that pack gatlings 



to make a rat sing like Nat King



Before they start blasting (blow!)



With no accuracy, handling they beef in the public



Now an innocent child got a bag for a stomach



Property value plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon)



People feelin betrayed so they take the street to riot



Cops fire shots and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire block



Politicians say it's time to march



But people is past that, ready to blast at whatever comin



From the master or from the office, niggas is sick of runnin



Yeah, all my soldier, raise it up, c'mon, now



(Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with dead prez, c'mon



(Blow blow)







(stic.man)



I'm deep in the runs 



where all that niggas give a fuck about is stackin funds



The black and young type that's packin automatic guns



If any static comes sparatic shots'll ring out



You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains blown clean out



The killers reign supreme, survival of the illest brain and scheme



For cream you know the game in my vein



I feel the pain for all the niggas that passed away



Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old fashion way



Blastin, we actin like cock tecs and tenniments



My squad flex if any shit pop, and put an end to it



It's like hell, this planet I'm from consist of dilligent crack sale



Assisting off the backs of young black males



It's innocent, suspending in packed jails that benefit



White well being, while niggas catch hell just for being



You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin free in this life



I stick a nine in ya spine for mine



No time for talk, 'cause I walk when I talk



Stalkin sidewalks of course with the eyes of a hawk



Crack a quart to get away from this trife world and thought



Puffin Newports 'cause life's a bitch, and it's too short



My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, rugged denim



Deadly in venom, totin buckets with nothin in 'em



But Rawkus, some ill mothafuckas for real



Straight hustlas with nothin but a taste for kill







(Chorus) 4x







(Talib Kweli talking)



Yeah, c'mon, all my soldiers



Brooklyn where you at



Florida, Cincinnati where you at



Africa where you at, yo