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   'cause I'm the one with the trunk of funk   And 'Fuck tha Police' in the tape deck   You should listen to me 'cause there's more to see   Call my neighborhood a ghetto 'cause 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   'cause 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