Luyện nghe bài hát Sharp Shooters

Artist Kweli & Dead Prez
Song Shooters
Typed by NLP Shit denmark Farum
[email protected]

(stic.man)
Everything is politics,I CHIN, Kweli, army, you know it

(M-1)
The white man came to Africa with rifles and
Heard the name, changin the titles
Now of Chaka call me Nat Turner with the burner
Freedom fighter for revolution, fuck a wage earner,
See I be what John Wilkes was to Lincoln, blam!
Sirhan Sirhan, peepin through the curtains my eyes on a Kennedy
Dead prez, politic, your enemy, keep your toast close
Because power come from the barrel of it
We in a war, leave it or love it
they got us in a scope like a P.E. logo
I watch for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the
Not a gun Deniro but a working hero
a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Garrand
Screamin know your gun laws, defense is a must
we set it off I'm a be the first to bust

(Chorus - prez)
Yo, I'm one my gun, I love it like my first son
It protects me and sure the jakes respect me
Yo, I'm one my gun, I love it like my first son
It protects me and makes sure the respect me

(Talib Kweli)
do you do
when the police kick in your like 'get on the floor'
you in the back
cause who you are and you at's against the law
You try to protect your home the illest arsenal possible
how to heal yourself and stop fuckin with them hospitals
Get with brothas down for the cause givin it all got
But every brother ain't a brother (word), fuck and get shot
By these black kings pack gatlings
to make a rat like Nat King
Before they blasting (blow!)
With no accuracy, handling beef in the public
Now an child got a bag for a stomach
Property value plumit time a shot is fired (c'mon)
People feelin betrayed so they take the street to
fire shots and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire block
Politicians say time to march
But people is past that, ready to at whatever comin
From the master or from the office, niggas is of runnin
Yeah, all my soldier, it up, c'mon, now
(Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with dead prez,
(Blow blow)

(stic.man)
I'm deep in the
where all that niggas give a fuck about is stackin
The black and young type packin automatic guns
If any static sparatic shots'll ring out
You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains blown out
The killers supreme, survival of the illest brain and scheme
For cream you know the in my vein
I feel the pain for all the that passed away
Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old way
Blastin, we actin like cock and tenniments
My flex if any shit pop, and put an end to it
It's like hell, this planet I'm consist of dilligent crack sale
Assisting off the backs of young males
It's innocent, suspending in packed jails benefit
White well being, while niggas catch hell just for
You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin in this life
I stick a nine in ya spine for
No time for talk, 'cause I walk I talk
Stalkin sidewalks of course with the of a hawk
Crack a quart to get away from this trife world and
Puffin Newports life's a bitch, and it's too short
My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, denim
Deadly in venom, totin buckets nothin in 'em
But Rawkus, some ill for real
Straight with nothin but a taste for kill

(Chorus) 4x

(Talib talking)
Yeah, c'mon, all my
where you at
Florida, Cincinnati you at
Africa you at, yo