Sharp Shooters Lyrics - Dead Prez

Artist Talib Kweli & Dead Prez 

Song Sharp Shooters 

Typed by NLP Shit denmark Farum 3520 

[email protected] 

(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 wage earner, 

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 Garrand 

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