I may never get
What we’re taught to expect
What you call privilege
I call respect
Counting me and my friends
Black sheep until the end
The rights you take we don’t fuckin’ lend
To 1 p.p., they summon me
Pant legs stained with grease
Deli bag on my seat, as the cops ride shotgun next to me
Meanwhile across the street, Sean Bell’s grieving widow bride
Gathers with some friends to cry
Unaware these rights are saying goodbye
We’ve got to take a stand
No fucking permits
Remove your fucking hands
We’re calling bullshit!
Right of assembly, robbed right from under both you and me
My wounded heart grows cold, so fucking cold
It’s power unchecked on America’s favorite set… but
We’re large, never in charge, we own the streets
Manifest at my feet…
City council usurped, as they thanks the cops for invading their turf...
Feel a dark buzz as I enter their hive, photographed and scanned
Anonymity dies, 50 cops against a back wall grin, 50 shots they’d
Like to see me have within.
‘Till they hear the words from one of their own, see the weakness in their
Imagined throne, only thing that’s worse than a sucker unchecked is a sucker who knows
He’s got nothing left…. Cause
We’re large, never in charge, we own the streets
Manifest at my feet…
The uncaged heart so easily offended, sit close to the pole, never feel your chain end yet,
They drink freely on the rights you expect, till the drunk muth fucka’s wrap a noose
Around your neck…
Power unchecked is in effect, its 50 shots from a drunk ass cop…
Power unchecked is in effect, its 50 shots from a drunk ass cop…
Power unchecked is in effect, its 50 shots from a drunk ass cop…
Power unchecked is in effect, its 50 shots from a drunk ass cop…
