N.W.A

N.W.A - Express Yourself lyrics

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Yo  man... There's a lot of brothers out there flakin' and perpetratin
 But scared to kick reality.
 Man  you've been doing all this dope producing.
 You had a chance to show 'em what time it is...
 So  what you want me to do?
 Express Yourself...

 I'm expressin' with my full capabilities
 And now I'm livin' in correctional facilities
 Cause some don't agree with how I do this.
 I get straight, meditate like a Buddhist
 I'm droppin' flava, my behaviour is heriditery,
 But my technique is very necessary.
 Blame it on Ice Cube... Because he says it gets funky
 When you got a subject and a predacit.
 Add it on a dope beat
 And that'll make you think.
 Some suckaz just tickle me pink
 To my stomache. 'Cause they don't flow like this one.
 You know what? I won't hesitate to dis one
 Or two before I'm through.
 So don't try to sing this!
 Some drop science
 While I'm droppin' English.
 Even if Yella
 Makes it a-capella
 I still express, yo, I don't smoke weed or a sess.
 Cause its known to give a brother brain damage.
 And brain damage on the mic don't manage
 Nuthin'
 But makin' a sucker and you equal.
 Don't be another sequel...

 Express Yourself...
 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...

 Express Yourself...
 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...

 Now, gettin' back to the PG.
 That's program, and it's easy.
 Dre is back. Newjacks, I mean hollow,
 Expressin' ain't their subject
 Because they like to follow
 The words, the style, the trend,
 The records I spin.
 Again and again and again
 Yo, you on the other end.
 Whatch a brother playin' dope rhymes with no help.
 There's no fessin' and guessin'
 While I'm expressin myself.
 It's crazy to see people be
 What society wants them to be. But not me!
 Ruthless...
 Is the way to go
 They know.
 Others say rhymes that fail
 To be original.
 Or they kill where the hiphop starts,
 Forget about the ghetto
 And rap for the pop charts.
 Some musicians curse at home
 But scared to use profanity
 When up on the microphone.
 Yeah, they want reality.
 But you won't hear none.
 They rather exaggerate, a little fiction.
 Some say no to drugs and take a stand,
 But after the show they go lookin' for the dopeman.
 Or they ban my group from the radio.
 Hear NWA and say "Hell no!".
 But you know it ain't all about wealth.
 As long as you make a note to...

 Express Yourself...
 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...

 Express Yourself...
 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...

 Express Yourself...
 From the heart.
 Cause if you wanna start to move up the chart
 Then expression is a big part of it.
 You ain't efficient when you flow
 You ain't swift, movin' like a tortoise.
 Full of rigor mortis.
 There's a little bit more to show
 I got rhymes in my mind, and better like an embryo.
 Or a lesson - all of 'em expression
 And if you start fessin' -
 I got a Smith and Wessun
 For you.
 I might ignore your record
 Because it has no bottom.
 I get loose in the summer. When in spring and autumn
 It's Dre on the mic, gettin' physical.
 Doin' the job
 NWA is the lynch mob!
 Yes, I'm a cob?
 But you know you need this.
 And the knowledge is growin'
 Just like a foetus, or a tumor.
 But here's the rumor:
 Dre is in the neighborhood
 And he's up to no good.
 When I start expressin' myself,
 Yella, slam it!
 Cause If I stay funky like this I'm doin' damage.
 Or I'mma be too hyped,
 And need a straight jacket.
 I got knowledge and other suckaers lack it.
 So, when you see Dre, a DJ on the mic,
 Ask what it's like.
 It's like we gettin' hype tonight.
 Cause if I strike
 It ain't for your good health.
 But I won't strike if you just...

 Express Yourself...
 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...

 Express Yourself...
 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...

 Express Yourself...
 Come on and do it...
 Come on and do it...
 Come on and do it...
 Come on and do it
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Copyrights:

Author: Charles Wright, O'Shea Jackson

Composer: Charles Wright

Publisher: Priority Records, Inc.

Details:

Released in: 2006

Language: English

Appearing on: Straight Outta Compton (1988)

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