The Coup Album

Chorus: Boots (repeat 2X)

It ain't Indonesia, China White
Purple-Haired Thai, Big H Delight
Take my shit we gon' have to fight
I'm always rollin' dirty so be actin' right

(Boots)
I'm bombing uppercut swipes as my knuckles ignite
More strikes than a teachin' staff's fight for pay hikes
Like cleats wit' spikes I clings to my turf tight
Get low like a Smurf might, earth is my birthright
You salivate at the sound of the bell
I come sick and make your lymph nodes swell
Nickel-plated teeth and tongue as well so you can tell
when I'm shootin' off my mouth the politicians start to bail
When I shoot, Fuhrman scoot I'm yellin', "Gimme all the loot!"
Bourgeoise pimpin' me now my digits don't compute
Chillin' in a house of ill repute
But is you wearin' canvasols or purple-pinstripe suits?
Fact of earth and comets: macroeconomics
Yak until you vomit, or come up on a lick
Sweat oozin' out my skin just to get another fin'
Changed my name to Valerie so I can get WIC
Savage Storm Troopers be less than seducive
Jailtime producin', silly Lilliputians!
This Gulliver, come equipped with a fo'-fo'
and twelve comrades in a box Chev' fo' do'
Skirtin' down the strip with a mission to render
And we don't give a fuck if we missin' a fender
Mix it in a blender, you ain't home, return to sender
Can't be saved by cokenders or a public defender
This ain't no macrobiotic chemical colonic
This politicalsymphoniclyricalnarcotic
Somethin' much mo' potent that we plotted
Come and get some, if you ain't got it

Chorus

(Boots)
Ex-ex-ex-ex-ex-exhilirating!
I accuse you of NIGGA-hating!
And exploitating for PROFIT making.. don't cop a plea
cause I'm B-double-O-T, from the C-O-U the P
I feel my epedermis at it's firmest just befo' a skirmish
If you want green like Kermit keep it heated like a Thermos
Aspired to be famous, puttin fire in their anus
Made the rulin' class hate us more than child sup-port payments
to Rosemary's Baby, shick-a-shick-shady!!
Pissin' in your gumbo and they tell you, "It's all gravy!"
See you can't trust a big grip and a smile
And I slang rocks - but Palestinian style
Now there's a rumble in the jungle, never mumble though I'm humble
Couple rappers took a tumble but my folks still want to rumble
Who's pimpin', your bundle? I'm _Fly_ like, Seth Brundle
If you're snitchin' to Columbo we gon' drop you like a fumble
Now what you make is point-oh-one percent of what the boss make
And what the boss take is keepin' us from livin' great
If this ain't straight you think you wanna sit down and negotiate
You better have a crew to help you shut down his estate
Don't get frustrated, discombobulated
Don't stand and debate it, get a mob and take it!
'Til then it's food stamps, vouchers, mildew-smellin' couches
Overturned garbage cans wit' no Oscar the Grouches
Makin' money sellin' plastic pouches
As Mystikal would say, "My flo' is covered wit' roaches!"
Absotively, posolutely, can't do without it
The Shipment is delivered, come and get it if you bout it!

Chorus

(Bridge)
Systematic playa-hation
Green paper complications
Got my ass an education
Can I get an application??

(Boots)
Pam the Funkstress

* Pam cuts n scratches Prince: "Thank you for a funky time.." *

(Boots)
It's kinda funky..
Mat Machine-Gun Kelly!

(Boots)
Well, he was smilin' like a vulture as he rolled up the horticulture
Ignited it, and said, "I hope the vapors don't insult ya"
What I replied denied, but he mixin weed and hop
His head was noddin' up and down like he agreed a lot
Bored, said, "We need a plot," I comply, "Let's leave the spot"
Hopped in the Granada, he's impressed by the beat I got
His name is "hay-zoos" but his pimp name is "gee-zus"
Slapped a hoe to pieces with his plastic prosthesis
"Nigga don't you know that I'm your daddy?" said he
This is true, plus he schooled me for my mackin' degree
"Never plea, try not to flee, make niggaz pee when you stick around"
This man my momma had found taught me to put it down
I press the gas to the ground to show that I'm a hound
Makin' sho' that get rubber sound is heard throughout the town
Thirty years ago, Jesus could pull a hoe quick
But now he 50 and his belly hangs lower than his dick
Philosophy that he spit stuck in my memory chips
And now he puttin' in a disk of Gladys Knight and the Pips
Then that shit starts to skip, he said, "Somebody musta scratch it"
Put the 40 to his lips and poured the contents down the hatchet
Well since my adolescence, cause of his pimp lessons
smack my woman in the dental just for askin' silly questions
Relationship reduction to either rock the box or suction
Ain't got no close partners, socially I can't function
From the pen he would scribe, on how to survive:
"Don't be Microsoft, be Macintosh with a Hard Drive"
Used to tell me all the time to keep a bitch broke
Did I mention that my momma was his number one hoe?
Clunked the 40 on the flo' and placed his palm on the dash
and wheezed out, "C'mon man, make this motherfucker mash!"
Ain't gon' mash too fast, cause my tags ain't right
Me and Jesus the Pimp in a '79 Granada last night

Chorus: *sung* (2X)

Oakland do you wanna ride?
I can't hear you! Oakland do you wanna ride tonight?

(Boots)
City lights from far way can make you drop yo' jaw
Sparklin' like sequins on a transvestite at Mardi Gras
There's beauty in the cracks of the cement
When I was five I hopped over them wherever we went to prevent
whatever it was that could break my momma's back
Little did I know that it would roll up in a Cadillac
And matta' fact, she couldn't see him like a cataract
And on the track, she went from beautiful to battle axe
And back at home, she would cry into her pillow
Vomit in the commode, I was six years old
I would crawl onto her lap and we would hug and hold
She asked me what I thought of Jesus when he broke off some bread
I said, "He missin' a arm, and he seem like a pee-pee head"
She said, "Don't cuss," and my teeth to go brush
And get ready for bed, and the toilet to flush
With tears in my momma's eyes, I was her everything
Before she went out on the stroll
She'd tuck me into bed and sing:

You're just too beautiful for words (repeat)

(Boots)
I see the red and white lights as the ambulance flies
Reminds me of midnight in a dope fiend's eyes
And my 9-year-old self as paramedics leave
Left to ball my eyes out on a neighbor's sleeve
To give illustrations that are clear and clean
I'll take you two hours back before this scene:
Early in the morning when the sun starts to creep
When the birds start to chirp and crackheads go to sleep
Moms was comin' in I heard her keys go clink
Wearin' nothin' but pumps, bikini, and fake mink
Even though she served, for fifty dollars-a-pop
Hardly had enough for rent after Jesus re-copped
That day the landlady got her rent befo' he got his knot
Slammed momma's head against the front bolt lock
Then the pump wit one arm done harm
Reached back and plowed into her head like a farm
Never saw the act, locked in the back, I was cussin'
Heard the blap blap of tewnty headcrack percussion
And body blows, her body froze from bolo's to the spine
I was hysterically cryin', all she could do was whine
She didn't even have the strength to say, I love you boo
But I said it to her and she knew that I knew
She was dead by the time the ambulance got on the case
But I never will forget the plastic hand stuck in her face
Stop at the intersection to ask Jesus 'bout directions
Go to frisco.. (I got very friendly vocal inflections)
Mob a left at macarthur to continue in flight
Me and Jesus the pimp in a '79 granada last night

(Chorus)

(Boots)
The rain dropped giant pearls, God was pissin' on the world
Or that old man who was snorin' rolled on over and earled
My temperatyre gayge read cold and blistery
Spinnin' wheels made each piece of asphault history
This was Jesus debut out the penitentiary
Fifteen years, but it seem like a century
See, he went in the pen for some other murder drama
Twelve years old when I wrote him quote I wanna be a pimp comma
You accidentally killed my mom, no playa hation points
You know how bitches act, shit exclamation points
First it was a set up move, then it was the truth
His letters were the only thing I had as a youth
But his lopsided game, see, was really counterfeit
So my little son dominic thinks that I'm a dick
Cause I was runnin' 'round like a little baby Jesus
To me women had to be saints, hoes, or skeezers
And I don't think that it's gon' end til we make revolution
But who gon' make the shit if we worship prostitution?
Ain't no women finna die for the same ol' conclusion
Put they life on the line so some other pimp could use 'em
Pulled into a vacant lot, the road to recovery
Pulled out my pistol as we brushed against the shrubbery
Jesus said, why the hell you pointin' a gat?
So I pulled a piece of game I could use out the hat
I said, this trip is over, we ain't finna ride on
This is for my mental and my momma that I cried on
Microsoft motherfuckers let bygones be bygones
But since I'm macintosh, i'ma double click your icons
He struggled for life, then gave up the fight
Me and Jesus the pimp in a '79 granada last night

(Chorus)

* Beavis and Butthead sample *
(Butthead) Whoa! Uh-heheh-heheh, uh-heheh
That kicked ASS!
(Beavis) Yeah yeah heh yeah
That was fly

* DJ Pam the Funkstress starts cuttin up "That was fly" *

Chorus: Boots (repeat 2X)

20,000 gun salute, get rowdy like you got a substitute
This slug's for Newt - shut your mouth, don't pollute
Army of down motherf**kers, shit we tryin to recruit!

(Boots)
See now we're talkin systematic, mack mechanics, decomposin
Chosen, representatives, from the ho's been known to act wit
pimp theatrics, a tactic necessary
In fact they wanna have us buyin from the commissary
This commentary's for my folks under involuntary servitude
Cause bosses don't be servin you your monetary
Pervin you like rum'n'dairy pulsin through your capillaries
Some inherit green, the rest just get our folks to bury
I'm abolitionary, wishin the judiciary
say this year for merry merry, free the penitentiary!
Peoples gon' rumble as long as stomachs grumble
and crack pipes tumble over asphault that's crumbled
Hundreds come in bundles and, hop is mixed with funnels
Cause babies wit shoes too small gon' stumble
This composition is sedition, opposition to the rulin class
Wishin they could detonate us hooked to the ignition
Keep my slacks creased to punch the clock for the beast
As my rent don't cease, his pockets get obese
Can't have inner peace without havin a piece
When the stepped on step up, we let the dragon release

Chorus

(Boots)
Disaster! The filthy rich bastards wanna milk yo' ass
faster, ask fuh, no salvation comin from the damn pastor
Old ladies play canasta, under roofs of cracker plaster
Little kids dive in the trash for discarded Dutchmasters
Dead potnahs on mural walls
Homeless kids takin baths up in gas station urinals
Shit the system can't cure it all
If everybody had a job then stock value's sure to fall
Hundred million neck slashes, so these facists
can make sho' that they check cashes, let's get massive
Wage struggle as direct classes, on just how we gonna
overthrow they bitch asses, give whiplashes
from the force as we make it tight, and ignite
the flames of takin over daily life, make it a right
to have food, threads and homestead
and Pac Bell won't ever cut your phone dead -- we own it!
But these business that love payin minimum wage
ain't gon' let you take they shit unless you showin the gauge
And if you do it by yourself they gon' put you in a cage
If you in a rage, please meet me on the same page, with a

Chorus

(Boots)
I'm risin like the vapors from the dank
Fuck the mirror in my pocket, had to break it for a shank
What you thank? Walk the plank, is my motherfuckin attitude
Right hand on the wheel, elbow out the window, leanin
to the latitude, actin rude can get you blown up, to'n up
But these teeny-boppers ain't gon' live to be a grown up
My motherfucker done got hisself into a spot
I got this nine, but it jam on every fifth shot
If we gon' do this, we could this, but I'm trippin off
the factor that these bastards put me through this
Nuttin ass tricks, gangin up on my homie
Now I gots to do some shit, to leave yo' kids lonely
The level of my life should be higher
Told E-Roc to jump in, and get up out the line of fire
Made a three point turn, as the three joints burned
off they lips, actin hard wit they face held firm
Calmly stated my acquaintance was no punk
You got a gat, I got a gat - now is you requestin funk?
They said no, E-Roc yelled, "Trick!!"
When we start the revolution all they probably do is snitch

Chorus: Boots

When we start the revolution, all they probably do is snitch
When we start the revolution, all they probably do is snitch
When WE start the revolution, all they, probably do is SNITCH!
..
When we start the revolution, all they probably do is snitch
When we start the revolution, all they probably do is snitch
When WE start this revolution, all they, probably do is SNITCH!

(Boots)
I used to work at Mickey D's
And to my old buster-ass manager, licky DEEZ
Had me workin on hands and knees, scrubbin grease
And in the summer with the oven on, it's hundred-ten degrees
I would despise flippin fries, I guess his bitch-ass
thought he was the shit, with his little red and gold tie
I asked him why I couldn't get mo' hours
He said it must be cause I lacked the mental powers
If I was smart then I would be in his position
I left his nose in a busted up condition
Only came back for my last check to pay me off
He told me then, that he wasn't gonna lay me off
Said I should quit and it would be to my enjoyment
I fell for it and couldn't get my unemployment
To ALL the managers, on ALL the shifts
When we start this revolution, all y'all probably do is snitch!

Chorus

..

(Boots)
Now hella my folks got respect for you, killa
Wit a raised black fist, and a pocket full of scrilla
Cap peelers want your autograph, say you know the path
But I do the math, my game bursts, like a bubble in the bath
Punk asses like you is just here for confusion
Be abusin rhetoric, and it's slightly amusin
You be cruisin all the networks, Ebony and Jet works
'long witcha efforts, now what's yo' net worth?
If you ain't talkin bout endin exploitation
Then you just another Sambo in syndication
Always sayin words that's gon' bring about elation
Never doin shit, that's gon' bring us vindication
And while we gettin strangled by the slave-wage grippers
You wanna do the same, and say we should put you in business?
So you'll be next to the rulin class, lyin in a ditch
Cause when we start this revolution, all you probably do is snitch!
(snitch.. snitch.. snitch.. snitch..)

Chorus

(ragga chat)
Busterismology, we don't want it no sir
Come and take a look, come and take a look a little closer
Busterismology, it dangerous like cancer
Busterismology, it only fi bustas (2X)

(Pam the Funkstress)
Ye-ye-yeah-ye-ye-ye-yeah
This is the Pam the Funkstress
comin at you, on the microphone like thisss
About to break it down and let you know
what busterismology is all about
A buster is a motherfucker who will sell you out
for a glass of water when it's raining
Busterism is what busters do
And last but not least, busterismology
is the study of all these motherfuckers to learn
If you do not know, now you know
what busterismology is all about
Nine-eight (nine-eight) The Coup (The Coup)
Boots (Boots) and me Pam the Funkstress
(Pam the Funkstress)

(Boots)
Now if ya gettin' in my car don't sit down right away
Cause my passenger seat tilts sideaways
And don't even try to lean the shit back
The whole damn thang'll fall off the track
Stick your hand out, and signal for a right
My window's stuck plus I got a broken turn light
Naw I ain't dippin'! Sometimes I get a stuck brake
Got my rearview attached with some duct tape
Keep yo' knee right there!
I'm tryna keep that glove compartment closed playa!
The seatbelt don't work just tie it round your waist
If you crash through the window just cover your face
The radio gets one station on AM, it's Chinese
but if you listed you could catch what they sayin'
Stop complainin' -- I heard what you said
So what the seat spring poked you in the leg?
Didn't know it stabbed you, but what you stompin' fo'?
You finna put yo' foot through that hole in the flo'!
Now what you say - you gonna sue me?
Awwww, because the baby hurt his leg and got a booby?
Now your feelings hurt, you wanna get up out my shit
Cool motherfucker, here you go, get yo' kicks
You need to act a little older!
If you want that do' to open you gon' have to use yo' shoulder
Get the fuck up out fool, you lose - why?
My car is better than yo' shoes

Chorus: *sung* (2X)

Now if you get in my bucket baby, you gotta sit on the flo'
And I ain't go no license you know, I'm tryin-a duck the po'-po'

(Boots)
See me in the town you might think I'm a star
Every three months in a different car
Like the other day in a '81 Datsun
wit' my alternator rollin' shotgun
Or in the fall in a '88 Seville
Pushin' it wit my foot down the hill
Once I did a job, the lady didn't wanna pay me
So she offered me a hooptie instead, I said MAYBE
Cause it looked like it went through a war
Missin' a door, three out of four
Ain't bad -- but is it safe to drive?
I'll wait til payday, then make it live
Fixed the beat first cause that's my choice
A bucket wit' the beat look like a Rolls Royce!
Next week it broke down on the Bay Bridge
And lemme tell you that motherfucker dang-ress!
Had a hun'ed so I hit the auction block off
Got a seven-six Pinto wit' some knock offs
Catchin' buses be gettin' me to work late
And you know that slow down my pay rate
Down to zero
No alignment make it kinda hard to steer though
They need to pay me for all these adventures
Tell 'em to my grandkids when I got dentures
Makin' a buck really costs a buck fiddy
It's only that cheap if yo' cars shitty
Motherfuckers laughin' but it beats the AC transit blues
Shit, my car is better than my shoes

Chorus

"Dr. Bruce, telephone please, Dr. Bruce, telephone please.."
Paging Dr. Kevorkian

(Boots)
We don't make no damn Mickey Mouse music!

* Pam the Funkstress cuts "I shot the sheriff" *

F.T.S. with The Coup, whatchu wanna do?
F.T.S., Coup

Chorus: Boots, Clap, Vexx (repeat 2X)

Undas, Cops, Pigs and Shit
They be gettin on my nerves I'm bout to have a fit
I need land, a place where no money is spent
I'll kick back, and live life immaculate (you say)

(Vexx)
Exchange data, no contact, no matta
Eternally, you'll find, information to be, God sent
The soul, my body's bein spent like some dope shit
All the way from across the Atlantic Ocean
See I can't help but talk about the way my people been raped
Right about now, I'm bout to set some shit straight
To all you late bloomers and early consumers, ignore the rumors
who has the made the whole nation backslide, to homicide
Almost and damn near, genocide
We all need to check our soul inside
Have you ever seen a human body landslide?
How bout some tanks doin a driveby
or a bomber droppin napalm from way high?
We long live, but sometimes we got ta die
The whole world's about to bow man, that ain't no lie
You betta find yo'self befo' yo'self takes all your time

(Boots)
One mo' gen now

Chorus

(Clap)
Bump you.. it got to be.. hot to me..
A cop to me.. could burn in hell
We re-bel.. we don't swell like the pressure
Tester.. even leave the best of shakin and
shivering.. WHOOO.. icy cold.. delivery
Deliberately slippery when wet
You moist yet? You check out
the hop-hippin.. it got you flippin while it's slippin
The hippity hop, hit you, cause it get you
so god damn krunk, bang that wild shit; read:
god damn bump, ransom stylist, thick
Rich like 69 dollar shit
Crazy like the Spice Girls, finger lickin, kickin
Sa-vory, fla-vory expedition mission
Free the land Africa, Africa listen..
Listen..

(Boots)
Hah.. bring it back now

Chorus

(Boots)
Can you feel it? I can feel it
..
Now if this party was a class I'd be a teacher
It's F.T.S. and The Coup, a double feature
Now if this party was a car I'd be the driver
I'm rappin third, the mic is smellin like saliva
The emperor, that motherfucker's .. ass naked
We'll take you higher than when you had yo' last dank hit
It's not surprisin that when folks start to uprisin
there's police on the horizon, they been there all along
they just good at they disguisin, the po-po's supposed to keep
the peace they gotta make the bosses money increase
You never seen the police break up a strike
by hittin the BOSS with his baton pipe
And you ain't never gon' see one
but when we take over it's gon' be poppin like Re-Run, huh
Boots from The Coup, lightin the dark like a toker
Much love to my folkers, all aces and jokers

Chorus

F.T.S., The Coup
A-hah

[No lyrics]

(Del)
It's the Repo Man! Reposession is my occupation
It's not my fault you facin foreclosure, I told ya
I'm just an agent, workin for the man
and his manuscript say you owe him for this land
Don't cry to me, and don't lie to me
Actin like you ain't home, fakin on the phone
You shoulda thought about that when you bought the Benzy
You missed a few increments
now we gotta come and get yo' shit
If you slip on the payments
I get paid to make sure that you pay rent
or get out, throw all your clothes in the streets
Frozen meats, out your refridgerator
then my boys come back and get it later with the forklift
Heh, we don't care how hard you worked, we takin yo' shit
It's too late, your payment's way past your due date
You couldn't hide from me, even with a new face
or plastic surgery, your debt's outstandin
I don't care about your family, don't hand me
no excuses, you know it's useless, no one's stoppin me
Just get off the property before I bring the cops with me
Possibly, this could turn into a criminal act
Gimme your fax machine, PlayStation in the basement
adjacent, to the big screen television
You can't tell the system no, we gotta get the dough
The company want they G's, or the keys
to the convertible, and hey, nothin personal, okay?
I'm just doin my job (you know?)
Collectin on your debts, now you're losin a wad
Bruisin your wallet, whatever in your pocketbook
all get took, to my agency, then they payin me
It ain't phasin me, that's my thing
When I mob off witcha shit, listen to me sing

La la la la la la la, la la la la la *repeat 8X*

(Boots)
*thck* One, paycheck from sleepin on the street
*tchka* Two/too, many bills my scrill don't meet
*tchka* Three day notice from the landlord on the seat
Fo-fo', caliber shots ain't discrete
But motherfuckers still jack frequent, no secret
cause they shit be delinquent
And on closer inspection, reposession collection
motivates birth protection in the brokest section
In other words, the ghetto
Repo Man, pullin strings like Giupetto
Squeeze two at him, let go
Cause I just gotta be real
I'm tired of informercials with them five-year payment deals
See I was sleepin on the carpet in my apartment
when I heard my car ignition cause somebody sparked it
So I run all the way down the hallway full throttle
Don't give in is my motto, so I bust him with a bottle
He screamin, "Whatchu gon' pay me with?"
Then he started laughin singin crazy shit

(Del) La la la la la la la, la la la la la

I said, "SHUT THE FUCK UP," and then I banked him in the jaw
But that was no use, even though he skidaddled
bill collectors make my phone rattle, tell my kids don't tattle
When you pick up the receiver, I'm sick with a fever
You don't know where I am either
Even hillbillies at a party linedancin
get they Ford trucks with poor financing
Banks that give the loan figure - damn, in the worst case
we makin money cause we had it in the first place!
And where was it that they got that cash from?
You when you deposit it from bustin yo' ass
Well two weeks after that last altercation
I noticed my front lock had a slight alteration
My TV was gone and out the window from my room
I heard the Repo Man sing his devious tune, it went

(Del) La la la la la la la, la la la la la *repeat 8X*

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

I raise this glass for the ones who die meaninglessly
And the newborns who get fed intravenously
Somebody's mom caught a job and a welfare fraud case
When she breathe she swear it feels like plastic wrap around her face

Lights turned off and it's the third month the rent is late
Thoughts of being homeless, crying till you hyperventilate
Despair permeates the air then sets in your hair
The kids play with that one toy they learned how to share

Coming home don't never seem to be a celebration
Bills stay piled up on the coffee table like they're decorations
Big ol' spoons of peanut butter, big ass glass of water
Makes the hunger subside, save the real food for your daughter

You feel like swingin' haymakers at a moving truck
You feel like laughing so it seems like you don't give a fuck
You feel like getting so high you smoke a whole damn crop
You feel like crying but you think that you might never stop

Homes with no heat stiffen your joints like arthritis
If this was fiction, it'd be easier to write this
Some folks try to front like they so above you
They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

There's certain tricks of the trade to try and halt your defeat
Like taking tupperware to an "all you can eat"
Returning used shit for new, saying you lost your receipt
And writing four figure checks when your accounts deplete

Then all your problems pile up about a mile up
Thinkin' about a partner you can dial up to help you out this foul stuff
Whole family sleepin' on a futon while you're clippin' coupons
Eatin' salad tryin' to get full off the croutons

'Cross town, the situation is identical
Somebody's getting strangled by the system and its tentacles
Misconceptions raise questions to be solved
A lot of b-boys are broke, a lot of homeless got jobs

You can make 8 bones an hour 'til you pass out and still be assed out
Most pyramid schemes don't let you cash out
They say this generation makes the harmony pray
But crime rises consistent with the poverty rate

You take the workers and jobs, you're gonna have murders and mobs
A gang of preachers screamin' sermons over murmurs and sobs
Saying pray for a change from the Lord above you
They'd tear this motherfucker up if they really loved you

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

You like this song cause it relates, it's you in this rhyme
We go to stores that only let us in two at a time
We live in places where it costs to get your check cashed
Arguments about money usually drown out the tec blasts

Work six days a week, can't sleep Saturdays though
Muscles tremblin' like a pager when the battery's low
And you just don't know where the years went
Although every long shift feels like a year spent

And you can write your resume, but it wouldn't even mention
All the life lessons learned doing six years of detention
Or how you learned the police was just some handicappers
On the ground next to broken glass and candy wrappers

Now don't accept my collects on the phone
Just hit me at the house so I know I ain't alone
And we can chop it up about this messed up system
Homies that's been killed, how we always gonna miss them

It's almost impossible survivin' on this fraction
Sip a 40 to the brain for the chemical reaction
You gotta hustle cause they're tryin' to push and shove you
I'll tear this motherfucker up, since I really love you

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

This is for my folkers who got bills overdue
This is for my folkers, um, check one two
This is for my folkers who never lived like a hog
Me and you, toe to toe, I got love for the underdog

(Boots)
How we gon' get in for free?

Now, I calculate the beatin for approximated speakin'
Play it at your party for intoxicated freakin'
One for the motherfuckers at the par-ty
Two for the DJ's bumpin this for me
Three for the girls with the fake ID
and a pound if you snuck through the back for free

See sneakin into shit probably always been my hobby
1985, in the Henry J. lobby
Ten bones for the Fresh Fest to me was like robbery
Tennis shoes squeakin -- security tried to mob me
People screamin so loud, they lungs got broke when
$hort grabbed the mic and started yellin out, "OAKLAND"
Not the type of brother that's hard with a death wish
but one thing that I'll die for is bein on the guest list
I'm talkin bout a pissyfit, sayin loud explicit shit
"Can't you read my name motherfucker; ain't you literate?!?!!
I be sayin this even if it ain't legitimate
Although it ain't considerate, I get in with no scrilla spent
Caught the 57 bus to the Coliseum
Run-D.M.C. and LL, gotta see em

Negotiatin with a guard out by the trailer
Me and twenty potnahs got in for a Taylor
Later in the game shit was much more elaborate
Motherfuckers rocked the spot, with fake laminate
Show em to security, and it was like BAM!
On stage with Ice Cube at the Summer Jam
I'm not a fronter and, this ain't a cover band
I'm always givin you the really and no other than

Alameda Drive-In, didn't wanna pay a buck
Five motherfuckers layin flat, in the mini-truck
Used to sneak in to the Eastmont Cinemas
Through the exit, sometimes about ten of us
But you know, I guess it was so easy
cause they playin movies that's already on TV
Most of them flicks I can't recommend
But back then, half the fun was sneakin in
See me in the alley, but nah I ain't no crack hoe
I'm waitin for my folks to open up the back do'

[No lyrics]

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

While you was eatin'
T-bone steaks
in palatial estates,
ornate with gates that automate
so those you hate could only spectate,
I was kissing my mate
through iron grates
while the guards wait,
50 cent rate for making license plates.

My papermate pen shakes
vibrates from 808 quakes
over breaks
dug outta crates
that sag from weight
of the vinyl plates...
girls work till they back ache
and their breasts con't lactate
you're laughin' to the bank
smilin', showin' all your plaque flakes

contesting, contesting 1,2,3
never shoulda been put in the penitentiary
Boots from The Coup would like to say
I'll shove these foodstamps down your throat
just to block your airway
and that's the fair way 'cuz everyday
you're on a moola mission
military killin' millions 'til you low on ammunition
bodies beyond recognition
twisted complex positions
then their kids work in your factories
and die of malnutrition

see your net profit stats
hold some murderous facts
but if you listen to the news you mighta
heard it was blacks
you got us herded in shacks
I got the pertinent tax
how 'bout the one for when I bust my ass
and you relax

I'll hit your head wit an axe
play soccer wit' your brain
to make it official
slice your jugular vein
still writin' songs that my momma could sang
and if you feel some yellow drips on your skull
it ain't rain.

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

That bitch ass on the front of a buck
never gave a fuck
he forced his black women slaves
to give him dick sucks
and when he bust a nut
he'd laugh and cackle
let the leather whip crackle
send 'em back to pick tobacco
shackled
wouldn't give 'em nil
so his homies stacked bills
fought on flatland and hill
to keep the british out the till, scrill

kept Washington dumpin' 'em in ditches
so slave owning son of a bitches
could keep their riches
which is how the war got funded
with two centuries of juice
from Black slaves bodies
and the profits they produced
you could deduce
that these men might win
fit right in
and make rights then
just for rich white men

so they quit fightin'
and wrote up a declaration
protective decoration
for their business operations
a gorilla pimpin' nation, no freedom - just savage
now the whole world's ravaged
from their hunger for the cabbage

Your fifth period history teacher
tellin' lies like a tweeker
bump this song through the speaker
watch they face get weaker
'less they righteous and they kickin' the facts
they gon' smile cuz this shit is on wax
one thing I gots to ask

George Washington down in hell can you see me?
I'm standin' on your grave
and I'm finsta take a pee-pee!

Tour guide: Excuse me sir, did you say you have to pee?
Boots: Nah, I said I love it here in D.C.
Tour guide: Well, anyway folks, continuing on with the tour.
We're here at the Arlington National Cemetary.
Behind all of you, right where the gentleman with the afro is standing,
is the grave of of America's first and greatest hero, our first president --
Pants unzipping
George Washington
Piss hitting the ground
Ohh, uh-uhhhh.
Cameras click

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

Knock knock muthafucka, yes once again
I'll make you pay for your sins
in the trunk o' your Benz
see youse an always fitted
always acquitted
parasitic leech
cain't be burned off my back
wit' no fiery speech

your hands is soft as a peach
cuz you ain't never did work
been rich ever since
your daddy's dick went squirt
have you ever hurt from your back?
ducked from rat-a-tat-tats?
seen your mama on crack?
lived in a pontiac?

drank baby similac
so you could have protein?
(just for enough energy
to hustle up some mo' green?)

I could paint some mo' scenes
vergin' on the obscene
but I'd rather show up at your palace
with a mob scene

I spoke to my accountant
who spoke to my attorney
who counseled my financial advisor
on a gurney

it's about fifty dollars
and that's almost like a sale
cuz it costs too damn much
to let your rich ass inhale

true liberation ain't no word in the head
I'm yellin' murder 'em dead
for some fish, steak and bread
you pay me 10 g's a year,
I pay you fifteen million hun'ed???
Sorry, you just ain't in the budget...

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

Well this is verbal penetration,
Alert your school administration,
If you act like a dick castration,
It just brings me elation,
Your misleading presentation,
Was just boring oration,
Gun claps from my tech will be your standing ovation,
Beat-per-minute calculations,
Match aorta computations,
Which speed up if you eat that greasy deification at Nation's,
Tear along the perforation,
Means collection notification,
And you know I stack my scrilla in negative denominations,
And that's a damn abomination,
It takes all my concentration,
To not rob armored transportation,
And collect compensation,
But it takes contemplation, conspiration,
Conversation, and propagation,
Information dissemination, and tribulations no hesitation,
Indoctrination, affiliation, penitentiary and jail evasion,
For liberation and publications,
Spell "THE COUP" with capitalizations.


I was on the verge of ejaculation,
Police performed a home evasion,
So I cut off the illumination,
And jumped up out of the ventilation,
They were in anticipation,
Waiting in Voltron formation,
So I performed circumnavigation,
And then crawled through the foliation,
Started my legs to gyration,
Caught me, took me to the station,
Valuables confiscation, started the interrogation,
Told 'em I don't know 'bout this organization,
Causing business complications,
Said they wanted pacification,
I said I know all yo machinations,
What you want more exploitation?
You gets no respect, no information,
One mo' thang fo' yo gestation,
Think you should try self-fornication!