Pigs

Uh, whoo-ooh
Pig, freeze, uh

Yo, look at your room it's a mess
(It's a mess)
And you tell me that I can't wear a vest?
(Uh?)
Why, you got one
Beating brothers in the chest with a shotgun

In my pocket asking where I got my knot from, I got a job
Like everybody with black faces gotta rob
(Right)
Oh you want my ID? It's not a prob
What's two or three cars for I'm not the mob
(Uh-uh)

I'm just a young rap artist
Do the shit you probably refer to as "that garbage"
Which probably makes me a black target
That's why I don't love you, whole or half-hearted

A lot of police should feel like a thug
When I see the boys in blue, I feel like a blood
But I ain't gang related
(No)
Sketch you in court when you change your statement

Middle finger to the blue and whites
That wanna get behind the car
And flash the light like freeze
Put your hands on the wall

They want us behind bars for life
And won't grant your rights
To call your wife like freeze
(Pig)
Uh-uh, my word is law

Mister Officer, please don't shoot
(Please don't shoot)
Show a little love to the young black youth
(Young black youth)
You plant drugs on us, stamp "thugs" on us
Put us in cuffs, shipped on a bus
(Yup)

To a cell that's equivalent to hell on earth
So the rats don't care who they tell on first
The Greeks don't care if you innocent
(Innocent)
Put a lighter in the air if you feelin' it
(If you feelin' it)

Middle finger to the blue and white
That wanna get behind the car
And flash the lights like Freeze
Put your hands on the wall

They want us behind bars for life
And won't grant your rights
To call your wife like Freeze
No, my word is law



Credits
Writer(s): Otis Jackson, Byron Simpson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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