(cut and scratched by DJ Pam the Funkstress)
 Verse One: Boots
 In this land I can't stand or sit
 and not get shit thrown up in my face
 A brotha never gets his props
 I'm doin bellyflops at the department of waste
 And everyday I pulls a front so nobody pulls my card
 I got a mirror in my pocket and I practice lookin hard
 I'm lookin behind me beside me ahead of me
 There'll be no feet makin tracks here instead of me
 But I can't disregard just what the news says to me
 I'm twenty-one, so I've reached my life expectancy
 At any minute I could be in some shit that kills my skinny ass
 From motherfuckers doin the sellout strut or probably Oakland task
 My relationship with OPD has been like one big diss
 Long arm of the law, grips my dick so tight it's hard to even piss
 So I forgot ain't even got a pot to do it in
 Up at the church they're tellin me it's because I live in sin
 So I grin, but nevertheless my mind won't dwell
 I must be trippin cause I thought I was livin in hell
 Capitalism is like a spider, the web is getting tighter
 I'm struggling like a fighter, just to bust loose
 It's like a noose asyphyxiation sets in
 Just when I think I'm free it seems to me the spider steps in
 This web is made of money made of greed made of me
 Of what I have become in a parasite economy
 Verse Two: E Roc
 In the winter there's a splinter with the smell of the rain
 And the scent of the street, but all I smell is the pain
 Of a brotha who's a hustler and he's stuck to the grind
 Of a sista who's a hooker gotta sell her behind
 Desperation makes her brotha get a little more bold
 The circumstance gets deeper when it's damp and it's cold
 So I spend my time thinking bout the ultimate gank
 Can I get my Coup together pull a move on the bank?
 I be the picture perfect hustler for the piece of the pie
 But my daddy always taught me just to reach for the sky
 Now my dream and aspirations go from single to hoe
 As I realize there's a million motherfuckers in the cold
 No need to be told, cause when you got a million po' people
 Gettin ganked, by a few that are rich and evil
 But it's illegal, to wonder how they livin fat
 (One two three) everybody get a gat
 Verse Three: Boots
 Ahhhhhh yeah!
 Niggaz, thugs, dope dealers and pimps
 Basketball players, rap stars, and simps
 That's what little black boys... are made of
 Sluts, hoes, and press the naps around your beck
 Broads pop that coochie, bitches stay in check
 That's what little black girls... are made of
 But if we're made of that who made us
 and what can we do to change us
 The oppressor tries to tame us
 here's a FOOT for his anus!
 Well since the days when I was shittin in diapers
 It was evident the President didn't like us
 Assassination attempts I'd root for the snipers
 My teacher told me that I didn't know what right was
 Well she was wrong cause I knew what a right was
 And a left and an uppercut, too
 I had a hunch a sucker punch is what my people got
 That's why I was constantly red, black, and blue
 Outro: E Roc, Boots
 [E] Boots, Boots, Boots, you wanna throw some shots out?
 [B] Ay man I ain't done with my lyrics yet, that's not cool
 [E] Ay, but ain't this a freestyle?
 [B] Naw, this is not yet freestyle cause we not yet free
 [E] Hey we gonna throw some shots out anyway
 *guns are cocked*
 [B] Awright fuckit, who y'all wanna throw some shots out to?
 [E] Uhh whassup with that uhh Bill Clinton and Al Gore?
 [B] Aight, they the new masters up in the White House and everything
 Let's throw some shots out
 [E] Yeah
 *blam, blam blam*
 [B] Awright, what about Bush? He on the way out and everything
 but I think we need a goodbye for his ass
 *gun cocked*
 [E] Uh-huh
 *blam*
 [E] See-ya!
 [B] Awright, what about Ross Perot and the good ol boys?
 *guns cocked*
 [E] The who?
 [B] You know who they are, awright
 *blam blam, blam*
 [B] Ay what about Pete Wilson? (Whassup) That Pete Wilson motherfucker
 [E] Yeah whassup wit him?
 [B] Awright
 *blam*
 [E] Got him!
 [B] Awright, ay, the L.A.P.D., *guns cocking repeatedly throughout*
 The O.P.D., The Richmond P.D., Detroit P.D., ay
 [E] Ay fuck it, fuck it, the whole, the whole motherfuckin P.D.
 [B] Awright, load up
 [E] Yeah, here's a loaded club for yo' ass
 *semi-automatic*
 [B] Awright, cool -- ay, what about these skinheads?
 Ay check it out
 [E] I can't stand dem fools
 [B] Awright awright, load it up, load it up, awright, cool
 *semi-automatic*
 [E] Yeah, got em!
 [B] Ay, what about these sellout motherfuckers!
 [E] Who? *gun cocks*
 [B] You know these sellout motherfuckers -- Ellay DuHarris
 [E] Who else? *gun cocks*
 [B] Tom Bradley
 [E] Who else? *gun cocks*
 [B] David Dinkins, ay, line em up
 [E] Yeah be true to the game
 *blam blam blam blam*
 [B] Ay, we outta ammo, what we gon do?
 [E] Let's get the fuck up outta here
 [B] Aight cool, we out