Luyện nghe bài hát Sharp Shooters

Artist Talib & Dead Prez
Song Shooters
Typed by NLP denmark Farum 3520
[email protected]

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

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

(Chorus - prez)
Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my son
It protects me and makes sure the 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 door like 'get on the
you in the back
cause who you are and you at's against the law
You try to protect your home with the illest possible
Learn how to heal and stop fuckin with them hospitals
Get with down for the cause givin it all they got
But every brother a brother (word), fuck around and get shot
By black kings that pack gatlings
to make a rat sing Nat King
Before they blasting (blow!)
no accuracy, handling they beef in the public
Now an innocent child got a bag for a
value plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon)
People feelin betrayed so they take the to riot
Cops fire and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire block
say it's time to march
But is past that, ready to blast at whatever comin
From the master or from the office, niggas is sick of
Yeah, all my soldier, it up, c'mon, now
(Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with prez, c'mon
(Blow blow)

(stic.man)
I'm in the runs
where all that niggas give a fuck is stackin funds
The black and type that's packin automatic guns
If any static sparatic shots'll ring out
You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains clean out
The killers reign supreme, survival of the brain and scheme
For cream you know the in my vein
I feel the pain for all the niggas that passed
to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old fashion way
Blastin, we actin cock tecs 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 of young black males
It's innocent, suspending in packed that benefit
White well being, while niggas catch hell just for
You might as well have a life of crime, nothin free in this life
I stick a nine in ya for mine
No time for talk, 'cause I walk I talk
Stalkin sidewalks of course with the of a hawk
Crack a quart to get away this trife world and thought
Puffin Newports life's a bitch, and it's too short
My crew leather, gold, camoflauge, rugged denim
Deadly in venom, buckets with nothin in 'em
But Rawkus, some ill mothafuckas for
Straight hustlas with but a taste for kill

(Chorus) 4x

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