(You can march like the white man

you can talk like him, you can - you can learn his songs

you can - you can even wear his suits

but you ain't never gon' be nothin to him but a ugly-ass chimp)



(Blackman)

(Don't sell out)



[ VERSE 1: Hardhead ]

Put yourself in the shoes of my color

In a position of power we're known to turn on one another

We're seen wherever 'help wanted' signs are hung

Slave driven to get a white man's job done

We're likely to take jobs at the welfare

Behind the desk lookin down on the poor from a leather chair

Nose turned up and givin orders

To someone's young black teenage daughter

Starin her down like she's a tramp

At the same time explainin why you cut off her food stamps

A black race that needs therapy

Cause the workplace is now a modern day slavery

Tryin to gain brownie points and respect

Frontin when the government's also signin your check

When the boss says "fetch" you bring

It's like, "Give it to Mikey, he'll eat anything"

With the idiotic grin of a moron

Dissin your color over a book of damn coupons

Get a grip is my personal gesture

These type of blacks should be buried like a treasure

So many blacks you'll burn till the day you retire

You're just another nigga for hire



(Don't sell out)

(Don't sell out)

(Don't sell out)

(Blackman)

(Don't sell out)



[VERSE 2: Hardhead]

Starin out the window as I gaze in wonder

How these negro cops are takin their own kind under

A gun, a badge and a dark color uniform

Makes me wonder what kinda dope cops be on

Friday night and the corner's buckwild

Two cops pull up wearing a cemetary smile

Before questioning the oreo's makin a scene

Got a brother's balls split searchin my jeans

Only to find a hard dick

And for that I'm publicly pistol-whipped

Mr. Ritz Cracker enjoys the scenery

I'm handcuffed and put in the backseat

I'm out in a heartbeat, right back on the street

A brother of six but number six is a black sheep

What the officer did was totally apparent

A color of black but that bullshit was transparent

These types are not hard to come by or get

Ass-kissers to protect a paycheck

Gomer Pyle stays behind the steering wheel

Leavin homicides to him, rapes and drug deals

9 times out of 10 their own color they're killin

Pullin his piece on seven year old children

Gimme a break, these types need coffins

It sounds comical but I grew up around orphans

Leftover-ass lawmen, their time to expire

These niggas for hire



(Don't sell out)

(Don't sell out)

(Don't sell out)

(Blackman)

(Don't sell out)



[VERSE 3: Hardhead]

Girlfriend was cute and fine

But one thing: the bitch was color blind

She said she went to Harvard

I met her at a time when you could say I was starvin

But I had a talent in rappin

Seemed like overnight shit started happenin

She took me home to meet her folks

Right away pops quoted corny shit Shakespeare wrote

Mom sits down to the table

And gives me a autographed picture of Clark Gable?

They reminded me of my last name

Considered themselves upperclassmen but a bunch of lames

Father and daughter eatin caviar

When I'm thinkin of makin the daugher my personal porn star

I'm sure her parents knew I wanted to knock her

This Mary Lou Retton type of a girl who was too proper

To be my complexion

She was, but never felt a real nigga's erection

We had chemistry for the formula I was fixin

When we got togeher I felt like I was race-mixin

So I ended the affair not with a bang but a nut

I liked everything about her till her mouth opened up

I cut her off to avoid slappin her

A perfect couple but one color was out of character

What's these type of people's desire

Another sample of a nigga for hire



(Don't sell out)

(Don't sell out)

(Don't sell out)

(Blackman)

(Don't sell out)



(Nigga, you ain't nothin but the white man's dog)

(Don't sell out)

(Blackman)

(Don't sell out)

(Nigga, you ain't nothin but the white man's dog)

(Don't sell out)

(Blackman)

(Don't sell out)