Hard truth soldier music, hard truth over music
Exposed so the youth can use it
Guerrilla Funk don't confuse it
With off-brand gangster rap that don't do shit
P-Dog and I'm back with a new clique
Sharpshooters, four deep in a 'lark shooters
That might creep in dark and shoot the police
in the heart for Sean Bell and Martin Luther
Cause ever since '90, America
Tried to bling me, but they still can't blind me
18 years behind me, 20 mo' left
Pro-left, pro-death, the "Bush Killa"
Corporate conservative crook killer
Wolfowitz for the chips that he took killer
This industry is full of shook niggaz
That's why the shame grip breaker returns to left hook niggaz
Now when we say Guerrilla Funk, we don't mean monkeys on a vine
We mean this as in New Orleans, Virginia Tech and Columbine
We still rise like gas prices, on fire like
CNN satellite vans if they pass by us
Like Bechtel hush money cash stipends
Lindsay Lohan's nose and vagina
Fuck Imus, then again white folks pointin
fingers at the hate that hate made is timeless
Look at Hussein, paid 'em, trained 'em
Played 'em, called 'em Al Qaeda then hanged 'em
You said die nigga? But I'm still crackin
Like six out of twenty nine eleven highjackers
If anybody dead, it's kids in the black church
bein mislead by the misled
B-E-T, tellin kids get bread
But never tellin 'em what to do with bread
A project for the bitch scared
Joe Biden runnin blue but he just might drip red
Now when we say Guerrilla Funk, we don't mean monkeys on a vine
We mean this as in New Orleans, Virginia Tech and Columbine
O.J. Simpson, B.T.K., Beltway, Peterson, Jon Benet
The San Francisco Panther 8, our government's hate for foreign kind
Representin for the innocent victims out in Darfur
But it's really not our war
I'ma leave it alone on this track cause that's somethin
I had to go and write to a whole 'nother song for
The rap shit got niggas on all fours
T-Kash make many sound like Forrest
Guerrilla Funk, straight vets, place bets them
Pseudo-ass revolutionaries never come towards us
By the way, if you ain't spittin hard truth
Then you ain't spittin shit up in our booth
Grande mocha civil rights leaders get a
blue star momma tryin to walk up in our shoes
GuerrillaFunk dot com is the website
Log on get'cha head right
We got pro red right scared to head to bed at night
Hard Truth won't spare ya life motherfucker
What is a revolution?
Was no love lost, was no compromise, was no negotiation
I'm tellin you you don't know what a revolution is!
because when you find out what it is you'll get out of the way
You haven't got a revolution that doesn't involve bloodshed
and you're afraid to bleed
I saw it, you're afraid to bleed
If it is right, for America to draft us
And teach us how to be violent
Then it is right for you and me
We don't talk about, we do it
Got no time to dance, it's the movement
Comin way too strong, let's move it
Freedom must be won, or lose it
Who said freedom could ne-ver be won?
Who said it was the ballot or the gun?
Who said a group like us, couldn't move?
It wasn't me, but maybe it was you