Open Fire

(Flavor Flav Sample:)
"Alright now here we go..."

Tell me, how many real mother fuckers feel me?
I smoke a blunt and freak the funk.
These shitty jealous mother fuckers kill me.
From out the gutter, a bigger hero. I'm 165,
and staying high 'til I die, my competition's zero.
'Cause I could give a fuck about you, you better duck.
Or I'll be forced to eat your ass up, I gives a fuck.
I'm sick inside my mind, why they sweat me?
It's gonna take a army full of crooked-ass cops to come and get me.
Niggers know I ain't the one to sleep on.
I'm under pressure. I gotta sleep with my piece
and extra clips beside my dresser.
Word to God, I been ready to die since I was born.
I don't want no shit but niggers trippin'. Yo it's on!
Open fire on my adversaries, don't even worry!
Better have on a vest, aim for the chest and then you buried
It's a man's world, niggers get played.
Another stray, hope I live to see another day, hey!

I'm gettin' sweated by these undercovers. Who can I trust?
Got my momma stressin', thinkin' it's a drug bust.
Gotta get paid but all the drama that's attached
with living the drug life, thug life, each day could be my last.
Will I blast when it's time to shoot 'em? Don't even ask.
That's the consequences when you're living fast.
Six bricks of tricks for my niggers.
I gotta come up and recoup,
you keep the dope just bring me six figures.
Is it a bust? I hear the sirens.
Run for cover, over the fence and open fire.

"Alright now here we go..."

These mother fuckers' on my ass, I'm in traffic.
Will it be tragic? I'm comin' 'round the corner like I'm magic.
Doin' 90 on the freeway and hittin' switches
in a high speed chase with these punk bitches.
Don't turn around, I ain't givin' up
'cause they don't worry me. 
Pussy-ass bitches better bury me.
Runnin' out of gas, time to park it.
I'm on foot, we in the hood
How the fuck they gonna catch a crook? 
I got away 'cause I'm clever.
Went to my neighbors for a favor,
now you know players stick together.
I watch the scene from the rooftop.
Spittin loogies at the coppers that pursue me.
Bitch! I'll be a hustler 'til it's over.
Mother fucker. Open fire on you bustahs!

"Alright now here we go..."

Don't try to follow me, I'm headed out of state.
I've gotta pay my fuckin bills, so I'm transporting weight.
Change my plates, pick up my nigger and now we rollin',
drop the keys like they stolen. Tell me who do you fear?
I'm out of town 'til the coast is clear,
enough dope to last for years.
They got me runnin' from the police, nowhere to go.
With the lights out rollin' down a dark road.
But I ain't goin' alive, I'd rather die than be a convict.
I'd rather fire on my target.
I hit the corner doin' 90, ah shit!
Them bitches right behind me.
They take a shot and hit my fuckin' tire.
Jump out the car then I open fire, sucker.

Thug life bitch!
Going out like that.


Transcription 1997 by Jim Moore for Relativity Labs.
Written by T. Shakur, R. WIlliams.
1997 Interscope Records. All Rights Reserved.
Used without permisson.