4 28 1967, Pt. 2 Lyrics

[Verse 1: Skipp Coon]
See all I gotta be is what Jack said I was so
I don't give a bee about no buzz
I am about freedom
I never mind the chickens or the club
I will live and die for the cause just because
If I don't I wonder who will
Ya'll place value on your wheels and your automobiles
But never acknowledge your children's diminishing skills
Or that they continue to fill all the prisons they build
My life is all God gave me to give
I want us to be free, but you would really rather I chill
While the blood of the slaughtered is watering killing fields
You jiving and shucking. She stripping and sucking for the bills
All for the love of the bread cheese dough. Sell pills weed blow
Let pistols go. Got coke from the countras, gave crack to the po'
And the government responds to it: "Just say no"
I'm freedom fighting for the love, you selling out on the low
And a man ain't fit to live without something he'd die for
I'm in the truck with a rifle like I'm Lee Malvo
Ya'll want a Sambo, well I'm Skipp Rambo
Jordans and camo, white tees and ammo
Put the freedom in the kick snare and the sample
I am Rambo
Put the freedom in the kick snare and the sample

[Verse 2: David Banner]
f*ck it then I'm Shaft don't have no ammo
No spook. I don't sit, I'll kick in your front door
Malcolm with a K or Medgar with four fours
There was bodies severed but we don't know what we're fighting for
Five and the six we bang on the wrong thing
Let's fight against the people that came and names change
Transatlantic trips that led to bodies hanging from a tree
It's cool to ship a Ki
You won't fight against the system but you're worried 'bout me
And who I won't sign. But you gonna find
That they gon' put it in a chip and embed it in your mind And all off in your spine. Confederate flags
I'm bitching because that bitch still flying
I would give you the answer but we're running out of time
(Kids still dying)

[Verse 3: Luca Brazi]
See they don't want to listen so loud what I got to be
Cause my people are proud of the poverty
That got they sons shooting guns over dollar bills
He getting money snow or sunny
But his daughter still read at a first grade level
And she eleven years old and her nose held high to the sky
Cause she got her first purse made, yes on her birthday
She was singing birthday sex
Let's skim right over what's showing in plain sight
Looking the other way but knowing it ain't right
Like over 50 shots now Sean Bell gone
Or a flash bang thrown in a little girl's home
Aiyana Jones. Who? Aiyana Jones
One shot to the dome she was seven years old
It's a shame
Imagine being daddy one day to putting your baby girl in the grave
Something need to change
This ain't a game
If you playing to the mayhem you be slaving to the day you laying face up in a casket
With credit card sharks still asking if they can put your name on some plastic
Man there's a war going on outside no one is safe from
Heavy is the dark, a spark Imma create one
Cause a little light might be enough to make some stray from the ways of the slave
The pain and the hunger is enough to make a sane man put it to your brain for some money and a chain
And I don't really blame 'em cause if you in the game screaming money ain't a thing
You resemble a filet
A lot of people saying that I'm preaching to the deaf
Man give that shit a rest. I'm going till the breath
Won't come out a nigga chest. They in it for the checks
I'm in it cause I want to be remembered as a vet
Luc Brazi

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