[Verse One: Ice Cube]



Peace - don't make me laugh!

All I hear is motherfuckers rappin sucotash

Livin large, tellin me to get out the gang

I'm a nigga, gotta live by the trigger

How the fuck do you figure?

that I can say peace and the gunshots will cease?!

Every cop killer goes ignored

They just send another nigga to the morgue

A point scored- they could give a fuck about us

They rather catch us with guns and white powder

If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me

Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy

They kill ten of me to get the job correct

To serve, protect, and break a niggas neck

Cuz I'm the one with the trunk of funk

And 'Fuck tha Police' in the tape deck

You should listen to me cuz there's more to see

Call my neighborhood a ghetto cuz it houses minorities

The other color don't know you can run but not hide

These are tales from the darkside...



[Verse Two:]



You wanna free Africa, I stare at yuh

Cuz we ain't got it too good in America

I can't fuck with them overseas

My homeboy died over a key of cocaine

It was plain and simple

The 9mm went to the temple

was the sound I put the bitch down

And ran to the schoolyard bathroom

Looked in the trash can yo it had room

So I ducked my ass in it for a minute

Covered with trash I had to lay back

Mad as fuck, thinkin' about the payback

Tonite the crew gonna have a little fun

I went home and cut the barrel of my shotgun

It's gettin critical - I stole a 5.0

I let it go - drive real slow

I yelled out 'Ice Cube sucka'

The shot-gun kicked - and it murdered motherfuckers

I told you last album

when I got a sawed off, bodies are hauled off

Its a shame, that niggas die young

But to the light side it don't matter none

It'll be a drive by homicide

But to me its just another tale from the darkside...



[Verse Three: Chuck D]



Standing in the middle of war

In the middle we flex

When we die, we won't make +Jet+

+Ebony+ can't see to the lightside

The term they apply to us is a nigga

Call it what you want, cause I'm comin from the coroner

Sayin my rhymes with a Ph.D.

Who's black - don't wanna role - sells his soul

Watch his head go rollin

Who the fuck are they foolin?

Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes

Matches the color of the one on my face

as they wonder whats under my waist

(Standin on the verge) of them gettin brown

thats a fact got a fear on their bozack

Run, run, run, their ass off, they can not hide

Yet Cube, they can't fuck with the darkside!