Verse One: Ice Cube



Peace. Haha don't make me laugh!

All I hear is muthafucker's talkin' 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 won't cease

Every cop killin' 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 sweat I had the layback

Mad as fuck, thinkin' about the payback

Tonite the crew gonna have a little fun

I went home and cocked the barrel of my shotgun

It's gettin' critical - I start the five point o

There they go - drive real slow

I yelled out 'Ice Cube sucka'

Shot gun hit - and murder mutahfuckers

I told you last album, when I got a sawed off, bodies are hard 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

The middle we flex

When we die, they won't make check

Ebony can't see to the darkside

The term they apply to us is a nigga

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

Same applies with a PhD

Who'z 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