[Paris] Ain't that a bitch, I heard somebody think Rap is dead cause people runnin out of shit to say So ridiculous and so absurd I was almost at a loss for words, then I started to serve Off the line of the Enemy's mind Back in 2005 droppin hammers without the time Bring the ruckus from the booth to the hood Motherfucker cause it ain't all good, now I wish they would Get yo' vest on, we rain on Babylon The anti-Fox News, anti-pop, original group P and the Enemy policin the beast Until we rise it'll never be peace, I put that on Jesus Back with vocals, no whack shit, no glory focus No gimmick tracks, just hard truth and rough raps Plus that gear that keep 'em fearin the crime Makin sure brothers knowin the time, that's why it ain't no smilin See the army as they're snatchin us up, yeah At yo' high school, promisin what? Better recognize the bling of the murder machine That's why it's meaning in the words when we serve and ask you to think Who the whores that embed with the swords Who the ones pimp us all sellin death for Murder Dog The imagery is dead-ly so what the fuck? Interscope ah better hope we never knowin and bringin the ruckus Like Nas said, it's a coon parade, yeah Bitch niggaz goin out all day We pullin guns on Uncle Tom to bomb on Viacom It's on, long as needed we competin keep-keepin it strong Ain't no +Comic+ in my +View+ as long as they sell the black out I grip my shit and blow your back out We act out, cause you know we reppin the cause Still a +Rebel+ never needin a +Pause+, I check drawers for balls
[Chorus: Chuck D] + (singers) Whatever it takes to make it hardcore! (Ridin with a soldier, hard truth soldiers in the game) Whatever it takes to make it hardcore! (Keep the record rollin, ain't nobody colder when we play) Whatever it takes to make it hardcore! (Hard truth soldier, ridin with a soldier in the game) Whatever it takes to make it hardcore! (Keep the record rollin, can't nobody hold the spot we claim)
[Paris] Soul survivors, now tell me who can bring it liver It's P.E., still beatin the beast In this game of latecomers, fake friends and flakes And grown men actin like teenagers, we raisin the stakes What'cha know about words I throw around When I say it loud better know that I'm black and I'm proud +This is what I mean, an Anti-Nigger Machine+ Take a look around and see the way they keepin the realest from reachin But I bet you never hear it again, naw Clear Channel never heat it again It never fit into the corporate plan of attack They genocidal practices only givin us "Murder on Wax" Keep us terrified, music sterilized Back the lies of the homicide and smile while life imitates what we make; they all makin money off the African's fall, that's why I'm callin out
[Chorus]
[Paris] Because a +Nation of Millions+ is fearin the +Black+ When we +Bumrush the Show+ +The Enemy Strike Back+ With mo' game than the music and our message attract +Revolverlution+ and +Rebirth+'ll keep the music in tact Fuck that, bust back on they criminal ways No compassion in they action for the son of a slave Now the church used to hurt us, make somebody behave Like this devil up in office really worship and pray Like God speak to him and he does what he wants But you know they steal the vote if anybody gets smart The real sin is the dilemma when the people support the death penalty but call abortion murder for sport For the fake patri-OT, ain't no questions asked 'Specially, when the babies kill each other for gas Known to blast on a menace that don't even exist Set up puppet governments, for the rich to get richer More money for them hoods, but the hood's in pain When the schools close cause they say no money remain Still under