True Songtext

von Paris

Welcome back to California
The punk po-lice will calico ya
The funk won't cease, we battle on the grounds
Of who it is that really own the town
Business, palm trees, a hundred degrees
C.I.A's, F-E-D's smuggle in ki's
Schwarzenegger still hustle and scheme, puffin the weed
Feelin on women, killin the whole scene
And I'm killin that old image you got
I know you think the West coast started with Eazy and finished with 'Pac
But think again, we got it just as hard out here
You act like the government ain't in charge out here - man
Pass the Molotov, light it up and throw it at the city hall
Administration, station
Face the Nation, I ain't talkin 'bout the President
I'm talkin 'bout the flag with the star and the crescent in it

Look at all the gangbangers sidin with true cuz
Look at all the flamebrangers ridin with true blood
P-Dog done provided the truth of
The true thugs, and how they divide and confuse us

Now put your purple back partner, I don't smoke trees (nah)
No dank, no drank, no coke or speed (HELL NAW!)
You know me homey, sober and clean
A lot of G's want me on the team but I don't roll with dopefiends
Imagine me goin from Tookie to Pookie
I'm a threat cause mainstream rejection didn't spook me!
Rappers tried to make me switch and couldn't move me
Kufi salute me and true niggaz choose me
Viewed to be the new Huey in Newsweek
We all speak truth now listen to the truth speak
Full circle with the way I view beef
If you don't choose peace you leave with no front two
Teeth up in this motherfucker (yeah)
Guerrilla Funk and we ain't never been no run and duckers (that's right)
Now tell me what's so gangster 'bout flossin your bank account
For some quick attention from the women while the people in the hood suffer

Well look here, what'chu think of bringin back the free breakfastes
The free food, free health care, free dentistes
The homey Fleetwood got the homeboy hotline
An ex-felon job line, hit him on MySpace
And pardon as I take part in upliftin of my race
Past the high rate of incarceration and crime rate
Bein my fate, so if you don't believe
That we can struggle and achieve then get out my face!
So quick, so fast, you don't get no pass
You don't get mo' black we'll kick yo' ass!
Then turn around and spend yo' cash, in the hood
With the mommas and the kids livin with no dad
'Frisco through Oakland, Vallejo through Oakland
They try to gentrify and then rebuild most Oaklands
But it's still mo' funk and coke smokin in the Oakland
Fo-fo's blowin domes open, think about it