Chorus

You got it…what it takes
Go get it…where you want it?
Come get it…get involved
‘Cause the brothers in the street are willing to work it out

So many of us in limbo
How to get it on, it’s quite simple
3 stones from the sun
We need a piece of this rock
Our goal indestructible soul
Answers to this quizzin’
To the Brothers in the streetSchools and the prisons
History shouldn’t be a mystery
Our stories real history
Not his story
We gonna work it one day
Till we all get paid
The right way in full, no bull
Talkin’, no walkin’, drivin’, arrivin’ in style
Soon you’ll see what I’m talkin’ ’bout
‘Cause one day
The brothers gonna work it out
Brothers, brothers gonna work it out

Chorus

You got it … what it takes
Go get it… where you want it?
Come get it…get involved
‘Cause the brothers in the street
Are willing to work it out
Let’s get it on… we are willin’
Let’s get it on, let’s get it on … we are willin’
Let’s get it on, let’s get it on, let’s get it on … we are willin’

Now we are ready if you are ready

In 1995, you’ll twist to this
As you raise your fist to the music
United we stand, yes divided we fall
Together we can stand tall
Brothers that try to work it out
They get mad, revolt, revise, realize
They’re super bad
Small chance a smart brother’s
Gonna be a victim of his own circumstance
Sabotaged, Shellshocked, rocked and ruled
Day in the life of a fool
Like I said before to live it low
Life take you time, time yo go slow
Look here, not a thing to fear
Brother to brother not another as sincere
Teach a man how to be father
To never tell a woman he can’t bother
You can’t say you don’t know
What I’m talkin’ ’bout
But one day … brothers gonna work it out

You got it … what it takes
Go get it … where you want it?
Come get it … get involved
‘Cause the brothers in the street
Are willing to work it out

Let’s get it on… we are willin’
Let’s get it on, let’s get it on … we are willin’
Let’s get it on, let’s get it on, let’s get it on … we are willin’
Now we are ready if you are ready

Chorus: Turn it up! Bring the noise!

Never badder than bad ’cause the brother is madder than mad
At the fact that’s corrupt as a senator
Soul on roll, but you treat it like soap on a rope
‘Cause the beats in the lines are so dope
Listen for lessons I’m saying inside music that the critics are blasting
Me for
They’ll never care for the brothers and sisters
Now across the country has us up for the war

We got to demonstrate, come on now, they’re gonna have to wait
Till we get it right
Radio stations I question their blackness
They call themselves black, but we’ll see if they’ll play this

Chorus: Turn it up! Bring the noise!

Get from in front of me, the crowd runs to me
My deejay is warm, he’s X, I call him Norm, ya know
He can cut a record from side to side
So what, the ride, the glide should be much safer than a suicide
Soul control, beat is the father of your rock’n'roll
Music for whatcha, for whichin’, you call a band, man
Makin’ a music, abuse it, but you can’t do it, ya know
You call ‘em demos, but we ride limos, too
Whatcha gonna do? Rap is not afraid of you
Beat is for Sonny Bono, beat is for Yoko Ono
Run-DMC first said a deejay could be a band
Stand on its feet, get you out your seat
Beat is for Eric B. and LL, as well, hell
Wax is for Anthrax, still it can rock bells
Ever forever, universal, it will sell
Time for me to exit, Terminator X-it

Chorus…

From coast to coast, so you stop being like a comatose
“Stand, my man? The beat’s the same with a boost toast
Rock with some pizzazz, it will last. Why you ask?
Roll with the rock stars, still never get accepted as
We got to plead the Fifth, we can investigate
Don’t need to wait, get the record straight
Hey, posse’s in effect, got the Flavor Terminator
X to sign checks, play to get paid
We got to check it out down on the avenue
A magazine or two is dissing me and dissing you
Yeah, I’m telling you…

Cause I ain’t goin niggatronic
Smart e nuff to know I ain’t bionic
Wit my main man Harry
Not Connick
Rather rap my black as of
Getcha hooked on phonics

Good e nuff to know no endo
Thru it out tha window
Along wit tha Super Nintendo

I’m a strict daddy
Got dat right
God damn right
But have a good time/Dyn-o-mite
Its just that I don’t talk
That same ol crap (shit)
Cause papa got a brand new
Bag fulla rap (hitz)

The world don’t work no more no more
The world wont work no more
Ain’t gonna woek no more no more

Verse II
My main knick knack paddy wack
C’mon & give a damn
Confrontational man
Iz what I am
Iz what I am
I’m tearin down da house that Jack built
Cause he killt whoever he wanted & hunted
And tax the backs of the environment macks
Who plan in da silence of the skams
A world dat wont work
No more/no more

Mother earth gets treated like a whore

And he doeth great wonders
So that he maketh fire come
Down from heaven on the earth
In sight of men

Toms to the left of me
Bombin to the right
World good night
He got destruction
In his appetite

On a platter a planet

To him it doesn’t matter
3-2 at the plate
Up go the greedy batter

Environmental alarm
To all not some
Good God
Cause we don’t get two of em

I was told that oil & water don’t mix
But the new world order
Got a disorder
& so I diss
Cuss my disgust
If I must
One earth is da birth outta all of us
And so I diss
After the math
Disaster wit a European autograph

I.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Da trigga is cocked
Nowhere to flock

II.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Pass da word
F what you heard

III.
Gonna be bedlam
If he spread em
Glock is cocked
Now drop da props
Gonna be bedlam
If we spread em
The day the whole world couldn’t do it

Repent
Oh no!
Check the preacher what he spent
One way ticket to God to fix scars
Woman & man runnin the land sea & air poor
Do we all go the way of the dinosaur? or
To hell & back attack
The new clear fog got us sniffin like
Atomic dogs
Pocket fulla pimp daddy moves
Put a code on a can
Whatta hell of a man, shootin
Trigga pollution, planet prostitution
Uprootin da third
We go to the way of the bird
Can’t do whatcha want to da place
Don’t waste my place
Where you from?
We only got one

And ‘ya don’t I won’t if ‘ya still I will
Take 3 jams and hold ‘em this what I told ‘em
To rock the other side, the sucker lied
Said he would shock but never tried, and so I
Took ‘em away, I never stayed y’all
Called the Flavor Flav to make another record
To get played
He made a jam to get you stammed
Back to back in the place where the suckers are basin’
Whatever it takes to make it hardcore
We gonna roll it raw
That’s what you but it for, c’mon
You roll in your ride, the DJ decides
To play it on the radio
The A side
He gives it a try
But never gives it a try
And the people request the best
On the B side

Food for the brain, beats for the feet
People on the dance floor
Never claimin’ a receipt
Had a good time rockin’, rollin’ on the go rhyme

The rhythm supplied by the superior B side
They had to twist and turn and shout
Turn the jam out, getcha’ ready now, c’mon
The situation put you in
To where you’re sweatin’ in
Hysterical B side, c’mon inside
Request the best to give a test
And never give a rest
Your guess is good as my guess
And while I’m guessin’ your guessin’, yo listen this is..
A DJ to play to give a lesson
And his name is Terminator X

And the sucker on the right gets cynical
‘Cause the record’s to the left and political
And you search the stores
Attack the racks with your claws
For the rebels without a pause
‘Cause the B side
Wins again, again, again
Yo Black, some of you are all in
To make sure the crowd
Get loud wit’ it on the dance floor
‘Cause the B is pure sure
You never knew the crowd was this hype
But you thought we was that type
To start a riot, we ain’t quiet
Kickin’ a thunderstorm with a song
Why would we dare you to come along
Pump up the music, pump the sound
Once again we gonna do it like this now
And while I’m throwin’, you’re goin’
And you know it’s time for man on a mission
To listen ’cause he’s in the house
He’s Terminator X

Now they listen and they want my head

Instead of peace the police
Just wanna wreck and flex
On the kid
What I did was try to be the best
So they fingered the trigger
Figured I was a bigger nigger
And started to search
An so I headed west
Went to cally a rally
Was for a brothers death
It was the fuzz who shot him
An not da blood or cuzz
I wondered why it was like
So I just held my mike
But in my mind I was blind
So I just tried to find
A reason we was quick
Just the way that we was
So I just stayed in the crib
Until I got a buzz…

Krackas, killas, kidnappas
KKK tryes to blame it on the rappers
They dont count the ones
That bounce to the 40 ounce
Or the runts dat get stunted
By the bluntz
This time I’m gonna take it down the line
To the ones that are ready
They be holdin it steady
When a song so wrong
So many be singin it
Strangled tangled
Caught in a spangled
Banner got em on dat camera

Stars I’m seein from
A beatdown in a slamma
O cay can you see
But you cant
Uncle Sammy wears the pants
Toms his bitch
When he’s swingin a switch
Rather stick da poor up
And give it to da rich
I always thought dat power
Was to the people, we the people
O say can I see we ain’t people

When I pledge allegiance
I shoulda got a sticka
1st grade/2nd grade
I shoulda just kicked a
Verse in the middle of class
Instead of singin bout bombs
Like a dumb ass
Land of the free
Home of the brave
And hell with us nigas we slaves
That shoulda been the last line
Of a song that’s wrong form to get
So when everybody stand
I sit

The red is for blood shed
The blue is for the sad ass songs
We be singin in church while white mans heaven is black mans hell
The stars what we way when we
Got our ass beat
Stripes whip marks in our backs
White is for the obvious
Ain’t no black in that flag

Do it to ya for The Post to employ me
New York Post can’t destroy me
Rapper of Public Enemy, rapstar beats lover
With the headline of a fucked up cover
Out the pot took plate New York Post
Get your story straight motherfucker
It always seem they make our neighborhood look bad
Here’s a letter to the New York Post
Ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on
Founded in 1801 by Alexander Hamilton
That is 190 years continuous of fucked up news
Yo one can play the game, two can play the game
Yo Flav read on can’t forget you either Jet
Flavor Flav is your best Jet yet
My own people own the most business
Write on faith of value’sness
Should have checked with me before you wrote it
Got it from another source and quote it
Put it out like the new year bull drop
In every beauty parlor and barber shop
Flavor Flav world renown
Can’t keep a man like Flavor down
Yo Jet be a good host
Don’t print bull like the New York Post
Augh, looks like somebody slipped up here
Anyway here’s a letter to the New York Post
Black newspaper and magazines are supposed to get the real deal
From the source y’all
Sorry, Jet you took the info straight out of The Post
Burned us just like toast
When it comes to getting you facts straight about P.E.
Get your shit correct

911 is a joke

Everyday they don’t never come correct
You can ask my man right here with the broken neck
He’s a witness to the job never bein’ done
He would’ve been in full in 8 9-11
Was a joke ’cause they always jokin’
They the token to your life when it’s croakin’
They need to be in a pawn shop on a
911 is a joke we don’t want ‘em
I call a cab ’cause a cab will come quicker
The doctors huddle up and call a flea flicker
The reason that I say that ’cause they
Flick you off like fleas
They be laughin’ at ya while you’re crawlin’ on your knees
And to the strength so go the length
Thinkin’ you are first when you really are tenth
You better wake up and smell the real flavor
Cause 911 is a fake life saver

So get up, get, get get down
911 is a joke in yo town
Get up, get, get, get down
Late 911 wears the late crown

Ow, ow 911 is a joke

Word is born, your kids miss you when your gone
But life still goes on, you think they give a fuck?

Yo it¹s hot, what they got, 41 shots

Bad boys bad boys what ya gonna do
If you get caught by our muthafuckin crew
Shot 41 only hit 19
They need target practice, that¹s what it seems to me
Ally al is sharpton dan a tack
I¹ma be like ally al and fight ya back
What, do you want to go to war, you want war?
Do you want to go to war, you want war?
I¹ll bury all you cocka la roaches for breakfast
Shit you out and throw you in the water for the next fish
Cuz I can do that shit g
F-l-a-v-o-r f-l-a-v see.
To the highest degree times 3

That¹s what you get fuckin with my family

Word is born, your kids miss you when your gone
But life still goes on, you think they give a fuck?

Yo it¹s hot, what they got, 41 shots

Shootin at oj
Don¹t know if he did it
Racist mutherfuckers mad cause they ain¹t with it
The police get out the car searchin for nuthin
If you got sumthin, then they got you for sumthin
That¹s fucked up, the way they play dirty
Lock em up in jail until he¹s past thirty
They don¹t give a fuck about you
They don¹t give a fuck about me
I¹m past thirty three
Word is born, born is my word
I got you before my word fails
Fuck whatcha heard
I keep it real, you never catch me fakin
When it comes down to money that¹s what i¹m making
Don¹t try and take my shit yo, I know lex yo
I¹ll have a fit yo
I¹ll turn the whole mutherfuckin block on you yo
And that leaves you with nowhere to go
Secretly by the police you was hired
You my favorite customer I didn¹t know you was wired
A nik on the ground, covered by my feet
Ay yo rah get the heat

Word is born, your kids miss you when your gone
But life still goes on, you think they give a fuck?

Yo it¹s hot, what they got, 41 shots

Wit’ no change and he run
To get his brains rearranged
Serve it to the home they’re able
To do without a table
Beside what’s inside ain’t on the label
They drink it thinkin’ it’s good
But they don’t sell the shit in the white neighborhood
Exposin’ the plan they get mad at me I understand
They’re slaves to the liquor man
Back to my homeboy shorty
He can drink it down
And think nuttin’ about it
Pass it around and get tha 40 dog buzz
At the same time
Shorty can’t remember what day it was
Say I’m yellin’ is fact
Genocide kickin’ in yo back
How many times have you seen
A black fight a black
After drinkin’ down a bottle
Or a malt liquor six-pack
Malt liquor bull
What it is is bullshit Colt
45 another gun to the brain
Who’s sellin’ us pain
In the hood another up to no good
Plan that’s designed by the other man
But who drink it like water
One and on till the stores reorder it
Brothers cry broke but they still affordin’ it
Sippin’ it lick drink it down oh nooo
Drinkin’ poison but they don’t know
It used to be wine
A dollar and a dime
Same man, drink in another time
They could be hard as hell and don’t give a damn
But still be a sucker to the liquor man