Scared Of Us Lyrics

[Intro: J. Morris]
Khao
No justice, no peace in these streets
Can you hear the babies crying?
Politicians and crooked police
Worried about the mighty dollar

[Chorus: J. Morris]
Instead of us, Instead of us, Instead of us
Got another shot fired
They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us
If we ever get united

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, T.I.]
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Ayo, chill

[Verse 1: T.I.]
Remember late night in the dope hole
With a half bag and smoke pole
It's a cold game
You admittedly gave cocaine
To the same people that you locked up
Gave a life sentence and did the whole thang
That what the plan was the whole time
Now I keep a nigga with some closed eyes
Celebrating your holidays
Pray to yo God 'cause you stole mine
Kill a nigga when they whistling at yo women
When you come and rape mines
Tearing down our heroes
You do the same thing, but you keep yours
Quick to hit a nigga with the RICO
See the bullshit through the peep hole (Bap)
Hustle air to the death
Listen shorty, all we got is our G code
Better stand up or get rolled over
Hit the front line, let 'em go, solider (Bap)
Huh, yo partner they some shooters, huh (Huh)
All you niggas wanna kill something
Shoot at Chief Keef, shoot at 6ix9ine
But do a damn thing to George Zimmerman
Okay, and all these black women come up missing
Where da f*ck is all the real nigga (Where)
All you niggas shooting in the club
Get yo hard ass in the field, nigga
Okay, I'll be damn if I won't bust mine
Risk my life, take my time
No, you niggas ain't revolution ready
Y'all ain't even finna waste my time

[Chorus: J. Moriss]
They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us
Got another shot fired
They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us
If we ever get united

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, Khao]
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Yuh, Khao

[Verse 2: Khao]
Get the Illuminati
Call the White House to talk to somebody
About our forecast on life, no sunny days
Man, the vision's cloudy
No need to be alarmed, get rowdy
Call for back up, cops double up
Your project was to keep us in the hood
In other words, blinded, covered up
Not exposed to what we could have
Got me irate, man, and I hate
How the knowledge that we lack got us taken back
To a slave driven mind state
Willie Lynch, it's encrypted from
The play book that it's scripted from
Brother say he'll die for a neighborhood that his momma just got evicted from
Another name that the cops slained
Better lay low when it's close to dark
They bucked at me, threw the cuffs at me
Boycotted the bus like I was Rosa Parks
You say you wouldn't join the military
But you trapping hard, so you might as well
Another agent for the government
When you're in the hood serving clientele
Think about it, we in the hood trapping and loving it
The same way a soldier representing the government
Soldiers supplied with their weapons and training
The same way we are with the drugs were slanging Gotta wake up, its time, people
Everybody get in line, people
The system played us and you can't see it
Like I'm in a world full of blind people

[Chorus: J. Morris]
They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us
Got another shot fired
They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us
If we ever get united

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, Joyner Lucas]
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Joyner, Joyner, yeah

[Verse 3: Joyner Lucas]
I got into a lot of trouble back when I was 10
Back when I use to have a lot of friends (Yeah)
Back when I ain't have no common sense (Woo!)
Back when I use to play Simon says
And never listen to a thing my Momma said (Joyner)
With a thing for myself so I pretend
Do I wanna be rich, well it depends
I mean, I can be rich like Hov and Puff
I can be rich like Warren Buff (Yeah)
Or I can flip bricks and all them drugs
But that's more trouble for all of us (Yeah)
Sometimes I be thinking hard to much
Like what if Triple X was hard to touch (Huh)
What if Rosa never caught the bus (Huh)
What if more parents was hard on us (Yeah)
An' look, what if Kaepernick wasn't all black (All black)
What if Trayvon and Zimmerman never crossed paths
What if Malcolm ain't have a dark past
What if (What if, huh)
What if Sean Bell never got engaged
What if Donald Trump never got his way
What Dr. King ain't have a lot to say
Make way for penalty (Yeah)
AKA the killer me (Yeah)
The KKK got denim sheets (Yeah)
But niggas can't even kneel in peace (Nah)
Niggas can't wait to get at me (Joyner)
Police can't wait to finish me
Throw dirt on my name and spit at me (Yeah)
Then shoot me and say I'm finicky
I gotta pray for my enemies

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, Grey]
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)
Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)
Grey, ay

[Verse 4: Grey]
They know what it is
They know we the truth
And when they seen pyramids, we were through
They drew up scheme to wipe us out clean
They seen all the greatness and never recouped
Conditioned our minds to believe that we less than human
With a book to recite to the youth
Manipulation got us tight in the noose
And everyday we see it right in the news
It's blasphemy that you'll blast at me
If I smash ya sneaks and be a casualty
But won't flash the heat when the crackers beat
Ya black ass to sleep
You wanna ask for peace
And then crash the streets strapped wit da gasoline
Burn da shit down to an ash and leave
These protests backwards if you askin' me
Cuz when the party's over and yo asses leave
Cops still kill a nigga before da nights done
Care less if they shot the right one
We just record and let the likes run
All these images we seein', it gotta incite something
While you stunting on the gram wit all the nice guns
Pull up wit da stick, you got to light one
All these oppressors, you got to strike one
What we gone do, fight or run our mouths, nigga?

[Outro: J. Morris, Khao]
No justice, no peace in these streets
Can you hear the babies crying?
Yo welcome

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