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Artist/Band:
Ice Cube
Lyrics for Song: Us
Lyrics for Album: Death Certificate
Could you tell me who released our animal instinct?
Got the white man sittinÂ’ there tickled pink.
LaughinÂ’ at us on the avenue
BustinÂ’ caps at each other after havinÂ’ brew
We canÂ’t enjoy ourselves
Too busy jealous... of each otherÂ’s wealth
ComminÂ’ up is just in me
But the black community is full of envy
Too much back-stabbinÂ’
While I look up the street I see all the japs grabbinÂ’
Every vacant lot in my neighborhood
Build a store, and sell their goods
To the county of sips (? )
You know us po niggas: nappy hair and big lips?
Four or five babies on your crotch
And you expect uncle sam to help us out?
We ainÂ’t nothinÂ’ but porchmonkeys
To the average bigot, redneck honky
You say cominÂ’ up is a must
But before we can come up, take a look at us
Verse two:
And all yÂ’all dope-dealers...
Your as bad as the po-lice- cause ya kill us
You got rich when you started slanginÂ’ dope
But you ainÂ’t built us a supermarket
So when can spend our money with the blacks
Too busy buyinÂ’ gold anÂ’ caddilacs
ThatÂ’s what ya doinÂ’ with the money that ya raisinÂ’
ExploitinÂ’ us like the caucasians did
For 400 years - I got 400 tears- for 400 peers
Died last year from gang-related crimes
ThatÂ’s why I got gang-related rhymes
But when I do a show ta kick some facts
Us blacks donÂ’t know how ta act
Sometimes I believe the hype, man
WeÂ’re messinÂ’ up ourselves and blame the white man
But donÂ’t point the finger you jiggaboo
Take a look at yourself ya dumb nigga you
Pretty soon hip-hop wonÂ’t be so nice
No ice cube, just vannilla ice
And yÂ’all sit and scream and cus
But thereÂ’s no one ta blame- but us
Verse three:
Us ... will always sing the blues
Â’cause all we care about is hairstyles and tennis shoes
But if ya step on mine ya pushed a button
"cause IÂ’ll beat you down like it ainÂ’t nothinÂ’
Just like a beast
But IÂ’m the first nigga ta holler out {peace, black man}
I beat my wife and children to a pulp
When I get drunk and smoke dope
Got a bad heart condition
Still eat hog-mogs anÂ’ chitlinÂ’s
Bet my money on the dice and the horses
Jobless, so IÂ’m a hope for the armed forces
Go to church but they tease us
WitÂ’ a picture of a blue-eyed jesus
They used to call me negro
After all this time IÂ’m still bustin up the chiffarobe
No respect and didnÂ’t know it
And IÂ’m havinÂ’ more babies than I really can afford
In jail Â’cause I canÂ’t pay the mother
Held back in life because of my color
Now this is just a little summary
Of us, but yÂ’all think itÂ’s dumb of me
To put a mirror to ya face, but trust
Nobody gives a fuck about...
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| Album Lyrics: Death Certificate |
Ice Cube
"Death Certificate"
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