Les boys do cabaret Les boys are glad to be gay They're not afraid now Disco bar in Germany Les boys are glad to be Upon parade now Les boys got leather straps Les boys got ss caps But they got no gun now

For street niggas livin with they lives on the line For young guns comin' up during these times For police that find drugs let niggas slide For your mans not snitchin' when the pressure is tight For pistols that don't jam when it's time to strike For

Ain't living long like this Can't live at all like this,can I baby? They got'em all in the jailhouse baby I look for trouble and I found it son Straight down the barrel of a lawman's gun I tried to run but I don't think I can You make one move and you're

Postin' drugs all the time, don't fall for it Postin' guns all the time, don't fall for it Postin' money all the time, don't fall for it Don't fall for it They probably gon' call this hate, but People always hate the truth, fuck it Promotin' Lean but

Choose the highest bidder was my answer Schoolyard, junior high star Climb the wall to make the sun rise in time But the night had already begun The recess boys tried to buy the better girls Soft rock star when they told me I was up for sale Now here I

I been there - been there Done that - done that You got guns? - we got guns... Yo, I got straps - we got straps... A million muthafuckas on the planet Earth talk that hard Bullshit - 'cause it's all they worth... No question, it's all about the D - O -

Oh, the guns of Brixton You can crush us You can bruise us But you'll have to answer to When they kick out your front door How you gonna come? With your hands on your head Or on the trigger of your gun Shot down on the pavement

I got guns in my head and they won't go Spirits in my head and they won't go But the gun still rattles The gun still rattles, oh And I don't want a never ending life I just want to be alive while I'm here Spirits in my head and they won't I been looking

Tell 'em to take out their tongues It's not you it's them that are wrong And doing what they're told You push my faith near being lost But we'll stick to the guns Don't care if it's marketing suicide We won't crack or compromise Your derisory divides

Turned into my worst phobia A crazy man's utopia If you're lost no one can show ya But it sure was glad to know ya Only poor boys take a chance On the garden's song and dance Feel her flowers as they wrap around But only smart boys do without