Roots of American Gang Banging

Look at the roots of American gang-bangin as a world of division and destruction

European feudalism of the dark ages where strangers are enemies upon instruction

You live over there, and I live over here, so we have to fight when we cross

We’ve never seen each other or talked before, but it doesn’t matter, cause now it’s on

You see, some names are blue and others red, and in America these colors fight

Friends yesterday but foes now and till the end, higher cuzz my side is right

I’m a gunslinger, and this world ain’t big enough for the both of us

Glory to the strong and a grave for the weak, there can be only one

Tell the slaves on this plantation that they’re better than the slaves on yours

Our master is the baddest in the land and we hate him, but hate yours more

Tell the boyz in prison that their other brothers mean war

If they don’t listen, you know what to do, rape’em till it’s tore

We are so-called Black and Hispanic, but Africa and Native America remember

The English, French, and Spanish raped these mothers raw, so America makes us forget forever

Young Crips and Blood, Nortenos and Surenos, Poor Whites, Asians and Samoans

Family providers and protectors of their people, warriors, but keep the fools from knowin

Racism to let’em feel who owns’em the big white boss and keep them fighting

Unemployment so daddy’s can’t feel like real men, frustrated with free time to

Smoke stacks and stacks of what we got are the white Gods of smack and crack

Enough bigot cops to spit on any fatherly love daddy could’ve had, without jobs they have to jack

Make mommy fiend so she’ll clean the scum on the streets with a hoe

And Paint paradise on channel 3 so she knows where real American men go

Boot camp with sergeant save and dress the monkeys for when we need’em

Brand the bars and 50 stars on their backs so all we have to do is feed’em

Make’em pledge allegiance to the flag everyday for 12 years loud and proud

And tell’em how we escaped religious persecution from the British crown

The Indians were here first and taught us how to live when were dying

Nothing but fire, a blade and small pox, to get the mothafuckas frying

Reservations will hide this crime so free Americans don’t hear the crying

Summers free, weekends too, slave TV, and this here gun

They deserve 10, but give’em one, so after school they gotta run

Cuzz there’s nobody home but the boys from the block, and you know they have fun

Tell them that they’re different, and their own kind stick together

And forget how they sweat and get wet in the same weather

When they ask for candy give’em cigarettes with a fake badge of honor

Watch’em eat till they die with cancer, it’s just a coffin for some dollars

When they ask for water give’em liquor and the right to drink it all

Why bother when they die quicker and profits never fall as they brawl

When they ask for love give’em sex and pretty faces that ain’t there

Tell’em AIDS ain’t real when you’re the best and conquest is in the air

When they ask for music give’em noise the industry claims as game

People think they like it cuzz it’s new, but like the news it’s all the same

S0 the Blind mind follows when the hand of mainstream points the way

When they ask for soul and culture, sell it to them, what they are is what they buy

And tell’em what to do with it, because your TV, Church, and Radio never lie

When they ask for happiness, give’em the party, watch the pick and dussy dance and play

With candy, water, love, music you gave’em, they fuck and fight all night, or die trying, as we laugh and get payed

Hey it’s sad but like we say,

We’ll be damned if you Niggas and Indians find out the truth, and all you other monkeys and dogs

We raped your mother, we raped your history, hell we raped you, it ain’t no mystery, we’re the real hogs