Lift Your Fist

Yeah.. Guru, huh, The Roots

Yeah, c'mon y'all uh, lift your fist

Uhh, yeah, lift your fist c'mon

(Uhh)

To all my people, just lift your fist

Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice

How you want it, the bullet or the microchip?

Either way you got to lift your fist; we get it down like this

To all my people, ball up your first

Seem like it ain't no peace, no justice

How you want it, the bullet or the microchip?

Either way you got to lift your fist

Yo, c'mon

We livin life close to the edge, don't push

But this ain't eighty-three and it's not the Cold Crush

It's kids on the street strapped, huffin that kush(?)

They eyein the next cat, livin all plush

I guess frustration make a brother do what he must

What's the combination that can make a human erupt

Team leaders gettin mutinied up, who couldn't read

the signs, thinkin the day and times is (??)

Indeed, we blast, refuse to kiss ass

Quick fast, ready to mash cause of a bugged out past

Swallow the pain, follow the mental terrain

It takes a hell of a man, nowadays to maintain

Garments bloodstained, face bruised and battered

Our eyes reflect the agony, of dreams that were shattered

And they love it, when we wild out and kill our own

but the greater responsibility, yes, is still our own

Uhh, worldwide famine, ghetto people demand

that somebody do somethin soon, and let's examine

the facts, behind the violent attacks

Behind the daily gunplay the cocaine and the crack

Thug season - what's the reason for the treason?

Everybody's gotta eat, some gotta resort to thievin

Take money money make money money money..

Yo - from the time they eyes open til the clock strike death

Brothers is stressed, walkin 'round holdin they chest

They got the government surveyin they steps and can't breathe

They dynamitin them projects to smithereens

Money comin but them days too few and far between

You tryin to taste just what the world's offering, ya'mean?

I seen enough to make a grown man scream

Brothers thirsty and hongry to get that thing

Too many tears of pain, too many years of struggle

Too many drops of blood, too many problems to juggle

Too few jobs available, too few schools equipped

Too few role models; just gangsters and pimps

Will you succumb, will your heart grow numb

or will you save the world, and use your mind like a gun?

I'm the one - I turn a stick-up kid to a soldier

Me and The Roots, word up, we takin over