Under Lock & Key

I’m a sick fuck
But so are you
Been trained like Pavlov’s dog
Getting off on watching you
Suffer
Have we had enough
Role playing hierarchy
Is this really the way you want it
Baby
Angry and violent
Scared and simpering
Playing the part like Pavlov’s dog
Bells and whistles – spittle buckets
Nooses, nines, suicides
Wiping up our messes
I want out your pornography
Show me the way out this insanity
I’m a sick fuck for wanting you
This way
Your sick smile
Why do we play
It’s not the way we want it
But it’s the way we get it
Patriarchal sex toys manipulated by playboy
Ignorant puppets pushing, pulling
Lipsticked lips quivering, smiling
Hiding the tears beneath our sweat
Mascara, muscle, gritted teeth, fingernails
Buried sickness in holy matrimony
You done yet

As crazy as this may seem,
Don’t nothing come to a sleeper but a dream.
Fighting against the oppressor,
Has gotten the capitalist wanting to scream.

Hurray! I say unto you.
My Comrades are my pride and joy.
Together in this struggle,
Like an army ready to deploy.

With every difficulty there is ease,
So we must continue demanding more.
While oppressors continue squirming in their chairs,
I’m trying to keep their asses sore.

They break the law to punish lawbreakers
Unconstitutional conditions and censorship policy
They give us four envelopes a month
Expecting our return to society be successful with no one
They create these dungeons, punishing revolutionary behavior
Been alone so long with no telephone, mind and family gone
They believe they are gods chosen and we are Satan’s spawn
Going home to beat wives, child porn and manicured lawns
They mourn 9-11 like we didn’t deserve it
Sending sons and daughters off terrorists hunting patriots
They hate prisoners, Blacks, Latinos and First Nations
White dark night killer deserving of understanding and forgiveness
They wonder why the world hates them beyond words
Military bases spread like cancer the earth over
They seem so pretty, smart, happy and photogenic
Just the rich man’s puppets on Broadway, Hollywood, Pennsylvania Ave
Dropping bombs on Nagasaki, Hiroshima, unmanned drone celebrations
They could come in the morning and shoot me like a dog
But it’s not going to save them, we will never stop

When the horn is blown
who will answer the call?
Will all the crips n bloods
unite and stand tall?

It’s the love for the people
is the reason we strive!
And for freedom and liberation
is a good reason to die.

But come at your own risk
and start to fill in these ranks.
Just to let you know we’re up against
missiles, bullets, and tanks.

So all the brave will stand firm
and all the cowards will flee!
To all who talk that gangsta shit
and claim to be a G,

Gang banging is genocide.
Picture Cain and Abel.
Killing your brother for nothing more
than scraps from the master’s table.

I come to put the wheels in motion,
revolution means change.

A message to you all,
the ghetto children I call.
United we stand, divided we fall.

When the horn is blown
to rally the troops
who will answer the call?

I refuse to lay down,
in my struggle against the oppressor.
Anti-imperialist efforts,
settling for nothing lesser.

Striving together with my brotherz and sisterz –
Utilizing knowledge, wisdom and understanding.
“We’re fighting for world peace!”
Is what my comrades past and present is demanding.

Anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist,
fuck it! I’ll be devoted
to fighting against that old slave mentality
that my older peers seem to keep holding.

We rise together and never fall.
Nor stumble in sudden speech.
So to the brotherz and sisterz down in this struggle –
Without initiative and motivation you’ll forever remain stuck with
your slave mentality!

Join this United Front for Peace!

Have you forgot all the struggles and oppression,
a look at the real big picture is needed.
And all I hear is talk about a recession.

Remember it was about standing for a cause
when sticking together no matter what was the main thing.
Remember together we stand divided we fall.

When there’s a will there’s a way
so right now get your will back.
Like everything else struggle and oppression have an end
and a price to pay, there’s no turning back.

featuring Killer Mike
from the album One Rifle Per Family
Beatrock Music
2012
www.bambu.la

No surprise I’m from a gangbang culture
Where we can keep it civil or pull a thing thing on ya
Southern California where th sun don’t quit
Intergenerational gangs so sons don’t quit
But immediately you see that the problems that’s in my city
Are secondary to what’s propelling it in my city
I mean really break it down, take poor black and brown
Educate em poor, take the jobs from out they town
The inendate them with sedative drugs and dumb tv
Locked into a zoo and hunted daily by the police
Then you get a group of youth who know they don’t belong
Then they gather up and organize and number up strong
But see the failure is in seeing that the problem ain’t the gang
It’s the situation in the communities where we hang
So I’m so pro-gang it might scare a muthuhfukkuh
Cause I fix th misconception that th enemy’s our brothers

Bang on the setup, bang on the setup, bang on the setup
Upset the setup
Bang on the setup, bang on the setup, bang on the setup
Homie, we’ve been setup

I tell em…
I went from a street gang thang
Then I joined the military Fleet Marine Force thang
From a little bitty gang in th south o Los Angeles
T draggin bodies outta they house t help a government
Who hell bent on keepin money spent ona missle
Th reality’s the difference between em shits is little
We had th objective o armin up over money
An they had th objective o armin up over money
An we told kids join us we th truth
Lies about protectin our block t get recruits
Then we find out we gettin killed for a hood
An we don’t own a single spec o dirt onat hood
Whether ina zone down south in Decatur
Or ina flatlands offa Lennox and La Brea
Or ina low-rise project in Chicago
Big money come in and buy up our barrio so…

Throw your sets up, we bout to upset the setup
Upset the setup, upset the setup
Throw your sets up, we bout to upset the setup
Upset the setup, upset the setup

[Killer Mike Verse]
I do it for the Crips and the Blooders,
BGF brothers, the real…Freeway Ricky Ross and Chris Dutters
I do my thang for Hoover, I represent for Fort
So my folk and my people throw they set to support
Support will mean imagine, she might say the Chi
So maybe next summer no mamas gotta cry
Cause maybe next summer nobody gotta die
Hell, even if we fail, somebody gotta try
The only way the system move, is somebody gotta lie
And the lie they told us old, they base it on your race
They separate: you black, you brown, you yellow and white face
Then we further separate by joining gangs and legislate
That our neighborhoods are now at war like we are separate states
So the police occupy our hood to keep down all the drama
So the Starbucks they just built is comfortable for soccer mamas
And American Apparel comfortable for all the hipsters
And it’s zero tolerance for all you spics and you niggas
And you chinks and you crackas
And it ain’t about who whiter and it ain’t about who blacker
But the money is a factor
And the factor is the factories got moved up out da hood
When starvation is present and absent is the job
A man will simply starve, or he will form a mob
If you should form a mafia, then you should think Sicilian
Buy the hood for real, every block, every building
Every building, feed the children, gang bang, every building
Feed the children, feed the children, gang bang, on the system.

Comrades, I’m white
and I hate white people
not because they are white
but because they love themselves
too much
more than anyone else
more than anything else
more than all else
I love all else
my mom’s white
my brother’s white
father and sisters white
and I hate white people
not because they are white
but because they are killing my people
and my planet
all for green paper
and towering white steeples
I’m a traitor
who grew up in a trailer
I branded cows in my youth
ninety miles to the south
the nearest traffic light
we pissed off the porch
poached deer - ate rattlesnake
comrades, I’m white
But don’t hold that against me
because I hate this motherfucking country
to death
my pen’s my weapon
my blood - my breath
my planet - my species
above all else

I was born of a womb
of a mother who smokes
grew of age in a concrete tomb
choking on I-15’s exhaust smoke
my veins I must stretch to feel at ease
This is what my life is like
from conception to the grave
unable to breathe
quit what it is you hate
while you still hate it
three quarters done with my sentence
hoping someone’s still there to say
“You’ve made it”
Considered depressed and despondent
since the age of five
that’s when I learned to pledge allegiance
age five
they taught us loyalty to one’s country
as I smuggled cans of copenhagen and snickers
to my daddy
in prison
age five
I was born of a country
Built on and maintaining DOC brutality
Pledged allegiance to a flag
that destroyed my family
So, you see
this is what my life is like
from conception to the grave
Still
unable to breathe

Who are we…
Peasants from the slums/
The ghettos, the streets
Where we love drug lords & hate bums/
Drug up & get numb/
Party to hide our embarrassment
Trying to live lavishly/
As the tears stream down
From momz face she’s treated savagely/
But still we’re lost & brainwashed
I can afford a ounce of weed/
But can’t buy the baby shoes when in need/
I can slang dope to fend for the kids/
But can’t teach them some respect
Cause the slave pen is where I live/
Who are we…
Some thugs & gangstas/
Or fakes & wankstas/
Oblivious & ignorant
Cold-hearted & impenitent/
Broken-hearted & belligerent
But intelligent & benevolent/
But we only show the malevolence…why?/
Cause where we from weakness only leads to violence/
Funerals, head shots/
Dead homes & dead cops/
Who are we…
Lovers & haters, givers & takers/
My mind says it’s time
To change who we are/
From the only things being important is money, clothes & cars/
To cherishing our women instead of sluts, hoes & broads/
To being brothers instead of niggas/
To pullin good mass-movements instead of pulling triggas/
Selling dope is so old, only makes you hot instead of cold/
With ice, don’t sell your soul cause it’s a hellava price/
Revolution is the only solution/
The only resolution/
Fight for what’s right/
Fight for your life/
A soldier, warrior, survivor/
A man, a woman, a sister, a brother, a rider?/
Who are you…