April 4th, 2003


«Hello! My name is Mike Shmidt» или «Лирика на уроке английского».

You know sometimes I sit at home, you know,
And I watch TV and I wonder what it would be like
To live someplace like Cosby show, Ozzie and Harriet, you know, where
The cops come and get your cat outta the tree
And all your friends die of old age
But you see, I live in South Central Los Angeles and unfortunately
Shit ain’t like that!
It’s real fucked up

Goddam what a brotha gotta do to get a message through
To the red white and blue? What I gotta do
Before you realize I was a brother with open eyes?
The world’s insane while you drink champagne and I’m living in black rain
You try to ban the A.K. I got tan of’em stashed with a case of hand grenades
Tell us what to do… Fuck you.
Tell us what to do… Fuck you.

You know what you’d do if a kid got killed on the way to school
Or a cop shot your kid in the backyard
Shit would hit the fan muthafucka
And it would hit real hard
I hear it every night, another gunfight, the tension mounts, on the body count.
(ц) Body Count