Artist: Public Enemy
Album:  Muse Sick N Hour Mess Age
Song:   I Stand Accused

        I see I'm peeking out ready to rumble
        So now I'm speaking out
        Against those
        That flip the way the story goes
        One never knows
        Who be flippin the script
        Whatever the traitors name
        My aim is dunk em like
        I'm Chris Webber

        So many phony smilin faces
        Traces of slander
        Got em comin outta funny places
        I had it an hear em
        Talkin loud behind my back
        What was good for the hood
        Is what they say is wack
        I take the stabbin & grin
        When I'm hit
        Cause I know the suckas smile
        When I leave em
        What I'm comin wit

        I cant complain about the money
        Although the suckas in the back
        They talkin shit
        An laughin like its somethin funny
        I aim to make changes
        An never change
        Unless its for the better
        Cause I always been a go better

        Clean hustler
        Rhyme instead of muscle ya
        Born when ya thinkin I'm gone
        The terror era is on...

        I stand accused
        To the crews
        I paid my dues

        I stand accused
        I refuse
        To stand and lose

        I stand accused
        To the news
        I kick da blues
        I stand accussed
        I refuse

        I hear em talkin & walkin
        Behind my back I'm attacked
        Fuck the knife in the back
        Cause it feels like they got an axe

        Yeah I can dig it wit a shovel
        I never dig dirt wit the devil
        Instead I'm on that other level

        But I took time to reach down
        To help the black & brown

        I never stood around
        I hear em talkin behind
        My mind
        In a ocean of sharks
        And a back full a hackmarks

        They say I'm fallin off
        Yeah, they better call it off
        & get muscle
        & find another hustle quick
        Sick n tired of critics
        But I can take a hit
        I'm all man
        Alley oopin the vocal on jams
        But they dont know it
        They can blow it

        & take a puff of dis joint
        I see I'm kissin it  off the cuff
        Behind the back
        I'm pullin axes and blades out the arms & the legs
        Still my fellas get paid
        The terror era is on

        Fuck a critic/fuck fuck a critic
        All the fuckin critics
        Can get the did dit

        All a fuckin critic does is
        Draw a fuckin line

        Cross a line and dis my rhyme
        & then they ass is mine

        If you find a critic dead
        Remember what I said
        Who killed a critic
        Guess the crew did it

        Say paybacks a crazy ass message
        Sent to the writers who criticize
        They're fuckin wit afreedom fighter

        Who raises flags
        & dragged the klan in bodybags
        I hung em up in Missisippi & bum fuck
        This is Chuck so what the hell
        You think I did it for
        To open doors from Carolina to Arkansas
        And lemme let em I met em
        I told my boys forget em
        An what they did got rid of me
        Negative
        But 94 got stunts & blunts in da mix
        I hear the crowd fallin vic
        To old ghetto tricks
        But if I wasn't your cousin
        Wed leave em in the dozens
        Of sellin out & bellin out
        Half pint 40 ounce
        Announce to the rest
        We had a fall out

        I never took a drink
        Never took a hit or bribe
        Or got spread by what a silly
        Rumor said
        Never sang or gang banged
        Sold out or rented hip hop
        Cause I know when to stop