| Huey B. Newton shot in cold blood in west Oakland
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| Oliver North receives community service hours
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| For selling weapons to known terrorists
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| Tawana was brutally raped, but two fools said she did it to herself
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| A six hundred million dollar stealth bomber fails to fly successfully
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| And you say I should be proud of this song
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| Think about it AMERICA!
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| I’m living like hell in a world of death
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| Protectors of the people wear bullet-proof vests
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| Your little nephew, flipped him a Uzi
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| Took to the streets, shot em up and then «Who me?»
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| Locked in a trunk by Republican villains
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| Pinstripe suits, experts at killin
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| Civil war, but some want out
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| Trapped in a box called the ghetto we shout
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| Headin for the strip cuz the squares ain’t hip
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| Sell a couple keys, make the home boys trip
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| The president is a dope man’s friend
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| The governments strong but the dope got in
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| Punish the accused, but the trial was short
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| A black man’s dogged in a all white court
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| The jury dismissed, prosecutor says, «Can em»
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| Now I’m ashamed of my national anthem
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| The pentagon had a plan for a rescue
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| They said intelligence never makes miscues
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| The thirty-first was a day of death
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| Lieutenant Colonel Higgins, you know the rest
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| No negotions with a terrorist force
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| But Iran’s still buzzin' offa Oliver North
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| The Ayatollah’s dead but the hearts not gone
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| The burning of the flag in Iran goes on
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| Anti-American, we’re loved by few
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| We pay big money to the ones that do
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| The christian militia, they give us big knowledge
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| But the pentagon messed up and wouldn’t acknowledge
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| Ollie took orders from the number one man
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| But the crap hit the fan and superiors ran
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| Democrats tripped, the committee said can em
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| Now I’m ashamed of my national anthem
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| Am I a communist? |
| No. But my brain ain’t slow
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| Not long ago, Mix-a-Lot was po'
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| Never helped out by the ones with clout
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| I was mad at the world cause I felt left out
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| Stealin hub caps, stereos, anything to get paid
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| I realize I’m a modern day slave
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| Posse downtown, the sight was set
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| I saw my home boys mother with a buggy and a bag
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| People walk by, laughin at poverty
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| I looked in her face and I soon saw me
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| College educated, but she can’t get a job
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| The american dream once again got robbed
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| Vietnam vets on the street, that’s a shame
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| Fight for the man, and the man plays games
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| Dogged by the hippies, dope smokin' critics
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| You blame it on the soldier, but your government did it
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| My national anthem
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| My national anthem
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| You gonna teach me now about the care and feedin of politicians
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| Bolivia, Columbia, the CIA
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| Any similarities, I won’t say
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| But the dope gets in, uncut like P-Funk
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| Headin over borders in a scent-free trunk
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| Coffee over dope, but the dog can’t sniff it
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| Remember that lady that was broke, she’s widdit
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| Started with a key, clocked 17 G’s
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| Then got another shipment, pure D
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| Headin for Brumlen, the money was betta
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| Rollin in a Porsche, in a cashmere sweater
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| Crime, revenge, I’m tellin you this
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| The people that laugh are the people that knows
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| Her community complained, callin the police
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| But where was the community when she was in the street
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| Dope’s comin in, it’s killin em at random
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| And I’m ashamed of my national anthem
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| My national anthem
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| My national anthem
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| My national anthem
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| I’m ashamed of my national anthem |