Body Count

You know sometimes I sit at home, you know
 And I watch TV
 And I wonder what it would be like to live someplace like, you know
 The Cosby show, Ozzie and Harriet
 You know, where cops come and got your cat outta the tree
 All your friends died of old age
 But you see, I live in South Central Los Angeles and unfortunately...
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 Shit ain't like that!
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 It's real fucked up!
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 Goddamn what a brotha gotta do to get a message through
 To the red, white and blue?
 What I gotta die before you realize
 I was a brotha with open eyes?
 The world's insane, while you drink champagne
 And I'm livin' in black rain
 You try to ban the A.K., I got ten of 'em stashed
 With a case of hand grenades
 (Tell us what to do) Fuck you!
 (Tell us what to do) Fuck you!
 (Tell us what to do) Fuck you!
 (Tell us what to do) Fuck you!
 You know what you'd do if a kid got killed on the way to school
 Or a cop shot your kid in the backyard
 Shit would hit the fan, muthafucka
 And it would hit real hard
 I hear it every night
 Another gunfight
 The tension mounts
 On with the Body Count
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 Yo, Beatmaster V, take these muthafuckas to South Central
 
 Ha ha
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 Yeah
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 Fuck that
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 I hear it every night
 Another gunfight
 The tension mounts
 On with the Body Count
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 Last weekend
 Thirty-seven kids killed in gang warfare
 In my backyard
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 No!
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 No!
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 No!
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 Yo, Ernie C, take these muthafuckas home
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 Yeah!
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 Yeah, we in the house, Body Count fools, 1991 muthafuckas
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 I hear it every night
 Another gunfight
 The tension mounts
 On with the Body Count
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 Goddamn what a brotha gotta do to get a message through
 To the red, white and you?
 What I gotta die before you realize
 I was a nigga with open eyes?
 The world's insane, while you drink champagne
 And I'm livin' in black rain
 Don't you hear the guns
 You stupid, dumb, dick suckin', bum politicians
 (Tell us what to do) Fuck you!
 (Tell us what to do) Fuck you!
 The tension mounts...