Artist: Public Enemy
Album:  Muse Sick N Hour Mess Age
Song:   What Side You On?

        It's overtime
        So the lyric
        They fear it
        When they hear it
        The flow
        100 miles and runnin
        Get near it
        And go
        Check it out
        Go
        To the race
        Give the drummer a taste
        The bass iz commin commin
        Suckas runnin from it
        Damn, why you call him
        The man
        Here I am scramm
        Never ran
        Never fight the black
        From Iraq
        Or Iran
        Who bombed Japan
        Blood on his hands
        Part of a plan
        He don't really believe
        In uhh! God damn

        If it comes down to shuttin
        Them down
        I'm in the hood surrounded
        Tell em I'm grounded
        I'm on that psycho analytical
        Tip if politics iz stickin to
        The mix
        Like tricks
        I'm one more time givin time
        Where the rhyme go
        Elite to the street
        To the brothas doin death row
        So where ya at
        If the beat ain't fat
        Say what

        C'mon
        And get some
        Rattle rattle
        Kiss and I hum
        Come can you
        Get it on the one
        C'mon pick it up
              pick it at
              pack it at
              pack it up
        To the black
        Who be talkin
        Where they at
        Where they at
        Wicked wild
        Feelin irie
        Not sorry
        Get it see it written down in a diary
        Same say fuck all dat
        Political shit
        But wanna get paid when
        Their brains in the second grade

        Nowhere to run/here they come come
        Nowhere to run/here they come come

        I'm a fan first
        I reverse another trick verse
        To the point
        Where I can rock dis funky joint
        In the brain game, I'm keepin my head clear
        In 33 years so what
        I never had a beer
        I don't know what I'm missin
        I'm not dissin
        But I know I ain't ass kissin
        Time to draw the line
        This time the rhyme
        Got da good guy goin gettin da nine
        Cause I know the hoody
        Got it good wit the hitman
        Can I get a hitman
        Know I'm duckin nat quicksand
        The funky automatic
        Handlin static
        Sellin out I ain't good at it
        & when I got bumbed
        I'm gonna open up
        Hitt em up stone to da bone
        But it ain't gotta be like that

        And thats that
        Can u tell me yall...what
        All in wit the law
        They fall in
        The great white hole where they
        Be sellin their soul
        Never get enough
        They be talkin dat roughneck shit
        Be comin they quit
        Fuck dat blood iz ticker
        Than water shit
        That shit iz counterfeit
        Devil go where da shoe fit
        Black mans law iz raw like Africa
        You violate
        Were comin after ya

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