Rebels Without Applause

[Paris] Yeah, yeah I'm representin where the sun set Guerrilla Funk and we still ain't done yet T-K.A.S.H. and the "Bush Killa," one threat One sniper on the rooftop, one vet Now come get with this West coast revolutionary tag team Republican bad dream, blitzin the rap scene Pullin over five-oh, profilin white folks Rewirin Diebolds, why you lie under oath I'mma let the fo' pancake, drag and scrape Drive by the county jail with a hand grenade It's a planned escape, Tommy Kash take the wheel As I throw it at the gate for the Panther 8 [T-K.A.S.H.] While you sucker butts trippin off job cuts, I just Keep a Glock tucked for the FBI Like a Walter Reed patient they'll let me die For my deadly vibe, but instead we ride [Hook] Real revolution, actual solution You can clap if you want but it ain't 'bout that Hard Truth the movement, more than just music The respect of the ghetto is where it's at [Parise] See we make the hood mobilize Rise up cause they 'posed to rise, ride on you cause they 'posed to ride For the Hard Truth Soldier side When you see this motorcade unload and drive [T-K.A.S.H.] Come slow from behind And let the automatic make a hole from behind The rich stay panicked, but the po' don't mind If piggies get blasted, just those hasslin brown and black kids [Paris] We some West coast classics, left vote passing No wackness, no braggin, so active Freedom and equality we gon' have it Known assassins known for blastin Dog and K.A.S.H [T-K.A.S.H.] On and crackin', fo'-fo's and masks For po-po's harrassin po' folks with passion Hard truth soldiers, our troops home right now Or the nine millimeter might BLAOW~! [Hook] [T-K.A.S.H.] The hood know my name, I'm good with the game If Cheney got shot then I would get the blame Even though I didn't do it, the feds can't stand to see A revolutionary with the ghetto influence By the way I talk turf, and still spit the real On the way they got work, for kids in the hills But they only got purp, and pills where it is Mo' liquor stores than church, the dead folks go on shirts I'm T-K.A.S.H., the pride of the underground Guerrilla Funk, never ride to another sound Make a politician run and hide when they come around Cause of how I instruct hounds to gun ya down The government make scratch mo' Than my homegirl who be spinnin for my potnah with the afro Black folks stack dough, scratch the smoke Subtract dope, add hope and vote, like that doe! [Hook] - repeat 2X [Dub of Hook before sirens end the song]