Protective Custody

Lyrics

[Donte of Mood] Yo, Mood recite chapters Rappers write scripts for actors Don't rap about the facts, 'til they attacked and catched Handcuffed and shackled, stand up, get tackled Defeaters of your leaders, heaters on their Adam's apple Keep quiet, be silent, the sphere no weak vibe We defy, out lootin' and rootin' for street riots Got to stop it, they taxes for guns, wars and rockets Puttin' profits in their pockets The lock and kill our prophets [Donte & Main Flow] MF: They stole knots, whole spots trapped in the road block DT: We globetrot, with road pop, running from old cops MF: The whole shot's told plots, Babylon's gold pot DT: Load Glocks, cold shots, set out like we sold rocks [Main Flow of Mood] We dealing with NARCS and cases Deaths over parking spaces Evil hearts are racist, Ohio's dark places Brutality on mark faces, car chases Incarceration, unite so we can spark the nation [Nine] You got the right to remain silent, at the same time – They got the right to remain violent and aim nines They got no love for you, just slugs for you Who want it? I fight back like a rat when he cornered Catch me at the light, windows tinted, 35 percent Breakin' ya neck, to see who's in it What is my intent? Trying to live Without the nonsense tou dying to give [Tiye Phoenix] Yo yo, the spokesqueen number one, Tiye Phoenix The black Venus de Milo Doper then Tae Bo, every man, woman and child know We unified force against the shooters of Diallo And now they sure to lose like Luther at the Apollo For Amistad to Amadou, attacked in the streets The term COP really stands for Cappin' Our Peeps They shot him, 40 rounds, our brother got slaughtered down We push through the border now, jihad, holy war bound [Breeze Brewin'] "You wanna be a [fuckin'] accident?," the beast was barkin' "You wanna know how many accidents could rob a New Yorker?" "And the possible atrocity – Millimeters from the kids," said the Glock With a ferocity, seemin' as if it's inbred While I stated innocent, but stressing it You're sure that it was desolate It could have been an isolated incident Nothing was found, "No hard feelings, I fight bad guys" Strutting around like he Christ huntin' the vice anti [Talib Kweli] This goes out to MC's who used to rock in Washington Square Park Now Giuliani got it locked after dark We mastered the art of living in death's shadow It's enough of a battle, to dodge the police And have to rise above the crabs in the barrel My people spill blood in the streets I'm never running from beast Can I get a response from all the revolutionaries up in this piece? ("Yeah!!") What up, 'cause of the way we think, they want to incarcerate us They think time will break us, but time won't make us [Punchline] I rock a vest even when I take shots at a bar The type to write the word "Police" on a unmarked car I resent you, gettin' off easy if they suspend you I'll end you, hope they use your own gun against you It's all mental, my man died in the streets I'm pouring out liquor, until there's nuthin' to drink That's how many cats died, slayed by the beast That night, 5-0 held court in the streets [Refrain: Mr. Len scratches] [KRS-One:] "Who protects us from you?!?" [MC Shan:] "Hip-Hop!" [El-P] Petrified little venomous school yard outcast From dysfunctional world of redneck garbage Community [bastard] child Seekin' power to over-compensate For minuscule [dick] record And repressed [homo]sexual activity style Need a vocation when standards split for the semi-retarded Who's prone to fits of spontaneous violence and compulsive lying Pack your Dukes Of Hazzard lunchbox with a Glock And your Ku Klux decoder ring We'll sing "Kumbaya" to the tune of a man dying! [Jah-Born of Medina Green] Y'all seen the front page? Another black man got slayed By the beast hit with a rain, over 4 Glocks got sprayed Hey Giuliani, was 41 shots necessary? Now my people's got to worry, 'bout the cops possibly killin' me Justice? All I see is Just Us Gettin knocked locked and bust, without a word discussed NYPD, should be NYPIG I don't deal with the swine, don't want swine dealin' with me [Jean Grae] These shot-happy [motherfuckers] legally ready to blaze [niggas] With raised triggers and cock-back with plans to fade figures Who black and innocent, [fuck] it, let's get militant Run up in the precinct, strapped with gats, with full clips loaded Aim at they heads, stainin' the feds Double 20 plus 1 round 'til blood red – revenge We must return to avenge My brother, we coming The first sister holdin' the lead [John Forté] El Capitano keep my guns high I run through New York 'cause I'm alumni The fact I'm in it, half street, half academic I memorize my stash number, the flash number Ya pig stench, plus your badge number Ya precinct, and the Irish lad you serve under I'm probaly grinding drugs, come from hittin' the kitchen "A black man in a pretty car" will fit the description You get informed quick "You racist [fuck], I was born rich!" [Mr. Khaliyl] I seen it happen before, and it could happen again You on a block mindin' your own and then you're left by your friends 'Cause they ain't down to scrap, just wanna ride in your Benz But when the cops is on the beat, that's when the party begins Like a karate picture, the way they mop the floor with ya All caught up in the heat, now the doctor can't stitch ya Nobody movin with ya, 'cause you really ain't bout it Now there's fear in your heart, and there's blood in your mouth It's like something we never seen before It's almost like we dreamed it all Live or die, either or, my blood is what they fiending for My people's screamin for the justice we deserve Send 41 back, we leaving 22 on the curb [Refrain: Mr. Len scratches] [KRS-One:] "Who protects us from you?!?" [MC Shan:] "Hip-Hop!"