Luyện nghe bài hát Sharp Shooters

Artist Talib Kweli & Dead
Sharp 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 rifles and Bibles
the name, started changin the titles
Now instead of call me Nat Turner with the burner
Freedom fighter for revolution, fuck a wage earner,
See I be what John Booth was to Lincoln, blam!
Sirhan Sirhan, peepin through the with my eyes on a Kennedy
Dead prez, politic, know your enemy, keep toast close
political power come from the barrel of it
We in a war, leave it or love it
Since got us in a scope like a P.E. logo
I for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the dojo
Not a gun Deniro but a class hero
a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Garrand
Screamin know your gun laws, defense is a must
When we set it off I'm a be the to bust

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

(Talib Kweli)
do you do
when the police in your door like 'get on the floor'
you in the back
cause who you are and where you at's the law
You try to protect your home the illest arsenal possible
Learn how to heal and stop fuckin with them hospitals
Get with brothas down for the givin it all they got
But every brother ain't a brother (word), fuck around and get
By these black kings pack gatlings
to make a rat like Nat King
Before they start (blow!)
With no accuracy, handling beef in the public
Now an child got a bag for a stomach
Property plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon)
People feelin betrayed so they the street to riot
Cops fire shots and try to stop the spirit over the entire block
Politicians say time to march
But people is past that, ready to blast at comin
From the master or from the office, is sick of runnin
Yeah, all my soldier, it up, c'mon, now
(Bust ya guns) yeah, with dead 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 young type that's packin guns
If any static comes sparatic ring out
You get up, you get your fuckin brains blown clean out
The killers reign supreme, survival of the illest and scheme
For you know the game in my vein
I feel the pain for all the niggas passed away
Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old way
Blastin, we actin cock tecs and tenniments
My squad if any shit pop, and put an end to it
It's like hell, this planet I'm consist of dilligent crack sale
off the backs of young black males
It's innocent, suspending in jails that benefit
White well being, while niggas catch hell for being
You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin free in this
I stick a in ya spine for mine
No time for talk, 'cause I walk when I
sidewalks of course with the eyes of a hawk
Crack a quart to get away from this trife world and
Puffin 'cause life's a bitch, and it's too short
My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, denim
Deadly in venom, buckets with nothin in 'em
But Rawkus, ill mothafuckas for real
Straight hustlas with but a taste for kill

(Chorus) 4x

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