Whole Lotta Love Goin On In The Middle Of Hell

Public Enemy

If you don′t stand up for something
You'll fall for anything
August 20th
You really don′t understand, do you?
Hey man, don't you realise a lot of fuss
To make this thing work?
Man, we've got to get rid of the
Pimps and the pushers and the prostitutes
And it′s dawned all over again

Masses of our people are in the streets
They′re fighting tit for tat, tooth for tooth
An eye for an eye and a life for a life
Will you just stop shooting up your people?
It's the living dead
That we have right among our midst

And if you don′t like this thing, let's get ready to change it
Oh-oh shit, we′re into it now, boys
Oh y'all release me a nigger
But at least I shot me a nigger
Here we go again

Look what we′ve got here
December 31st 1999
New Year's Eve of the year 2000
At the edge of the 21st Century
President Duke of the United World States of Europe-America
In the New World Order, declares war
As a last attempt to unify African people as one nation under one rule

Yes there are black folks and white folks
Along some line it's coloured
But the programmed subcultures have wreaked havoc on the Earth
Crackers and devils who are programmed on a superiority complex
Aim to make reign of the righteous to turn them into nigger-trons
In the nigger-tronic age

With no respect for themselves whatsoever
Goal: crack to cracker
Level the devil, and decoy ram the nigger-trons
It′s up to the righteous to step up and confront those, front

The ones that really make the money off the verdict of life
The mission: protect your people, by any means necessary
Protect by any means necessary
Your country′s still got love for 'em

We have never bit out tongue about that
We say it now, loud and clear
Down in the country where I was born
Picking that cotton and breaking corn

Whole lotta love goin′ on
In da middle of what?
Say what?
What's goin on?

I leave ′em home alone
They turned it into danger zones
Studio shootouts, leavin no doubt
In da eyes of the wise and not the other guys

Fantasise and gettin' that rep
Makin′ you move while they disturb the groove
Now the party's over, oops, outta time
Yo, my brother can you spare a crime?
Some wanna take me out, I even call 'em my own
(Can′t we all just get along?)

Rap is a contact sport, can I get support?
When I hum to the maximum
What I talk is straight from the sidewalk strong
The velt New York

112 beats a minute and I′m flowin' in it
Have no mercy to the ones that curse me
And when I′m in a pain
The feuding might be over but the fussin' ain′t
Some hate the way I say 'em
′Cause I block 'em like Zo' to the a.m.

Beginning of an end of an era, incredible shrinking race
Fiend without a face, and still got love for ′em
But some ain′t got no love for the rest of us
So my boys get iller than Illinois
Return to the noise

I'd rather fall off than fall victim of crime
And a low percentage rhyme
If I go down then they goin′ down with me
So y'all come and get me

C′mon (c'mon)
C′mon (c'mon)
C'mon (c′mon)
C′mon (c'mon)
Number one (Wild Wild West)

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