Call ’Em Out

Lyrics

[Sample: John Barton] I wonder if you'd believe this as a solution to the "Aboriginal problem"? Herd the worst of the Aborigines into one area, then put a chemical in their water that sent them sterile In time, there'd be none of them left Well, that solution has been put forward by none other than one of the premier's closest friends: West Australian mining magnate, Lang Hancock [Verse 1: Trials] Yeah, my trust in the police died in custody (Pow) Hand cuffed and stuffed inside some fuckery Double knees to keep my breathing shallow as my grave is On my best behaviours, till we end up leaking on the pavements (Why?) Best believe it's racist if we both walk in the same shop tomorrow (Tomorrow) And only one gets followed by the same cop (Come here, son) The only difference is our pigment (What's that?) At least, that's what the pig meant (What's that?) They wanna put us all back in the pig pen But not all are, still thinking we fauna This real life, hit 'em with that one-two: Tamir Rice Clear signs nothing's getting better and they ain't gonna let up Till we get that gut full and fed up (We starving) That's when they told me looking out for justice was outdated Deal with it and trust the judges (What the fuck?) Newsflash, motherfucker, I don't respect ya (Hell no) Ignoring that is easy when it won't even effect ya [Chorus: Trials & Briggs] I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out I said, I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out I said, I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out I call 'em out, and then I sort 'em out quick Hey, Briggs, you called 'em out? Hell yeah, I called 'em out We did another lap and gave 'em something else to talk about We called 'em out—What? What?—We called 'em out We called 'em out, and then we sort 'em out quick Bitch, and then we sort 'em out quick They want beef, then we sort 'em out Then we sort 'em out quick And then we sort 'em out quick [Sample: Lang Hancock] The ones that are no good to themselves, can't accept things, the half-castes—and this is where most of the trouble comes—I would dope the water up so that they were sterile and would breed themselves out in future, and that would solve the problem [Verse 2: Guilty Simpson] Yeah, skin of onyx, Mantronix Sippin' gin and tonic, and hittin' chronic I spit ebonics, fuck the system I heard they buildin' up another prison Right outside the subdivision, Officer Friendly Swallowing Henny, intoxicated off power Following any vehicle occupied With people of colour, so I'm keepin' my brother The powers against me, Mama convinced me There's good in everybody and e'rybody was good When they used to lynch me and drench me I'm speaking for victims, many don't have a voice Shuffled in the system, so we share the wisdom Speaking of lives lost, they killing our kind And barely getting time off They said we really shouldn't talk about I say the opposite and call 'em out [Chorus: Guilty Simpson & Trials] Yeah, yeah, I call 'em out I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out I said I call 'em out—What? What?—I call 'em out I call 'em out, and then I sort 'em out quick [Sample: Town Major] The do-gooders came along and they These bureaucrats and the rest of them who would write great theses on things down South And they decided that they better go and civilise these savages of ours, so they brought 'em into the towns [Verse 3: Briggs] Third class citizen, never got rid of 'em Locked in the system, no presumption of innocence I keep the mind state militant I keep watch on my brothers 'cause my state's killin 'em I keep my whips inconspicuous 'Cause these pigs give a fuck what you in 'Cause what you drive may be where you die If you pull over, you mightn't pull out alive Raisin' my hands, drawn a line in the sand So there's no excuse for a gun and a badge To let anything fly If anyone dies, make sure every cop shop in the city fries It's easier to kill us than skill us What good's a gorilla in a world of vanilla? Other rappers ain't finna, nah, to talk about (Fuck boys) Fuck that, I say the opposite and call 'em out [Sample: Spokesman for the Queensland Graziers] Now I wouldn't mind, Philip If it was just the blacks, the true Aborigines But there are so many hybrids And they are nearly white, and this is where it hurts me