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Artist: Armani of York
Album:  Child With a Gun
Song:   Stand Up
Typed by: Vinyl and Gold Records

Verse One:

See there's heat buildin' up in the streets
Motherfuckers ready to hop in they jeeps
But they work boots on and knock down the chiefs
Polish they steel, and click back the piece
When they click clack, deceased
We'll earn back these streets
And burn down the cash, never mentioned defeat
I'll be your leader, cuz I'm destined to be
But you gotta learn yourself, some fuckin' history
Pick up some books, decipher the mysteries
Cuz your flag and your land, don't mean shit to me
We all one, we all gods sons and daughters
I'm color blind, but it ain't no disorder
It's a blessing from the man, bring your camcorder
Cuz this a monumental day, Snoopie off manslaughter
Revolutionary warfare with no borders

Chorus:

See these shadows in the night, men with hoodies pulled tight
They didn't come to play, they came to fight
For you and everybody with no rights
SO STAND UP!!

Verse Two:	

What you doin' wakin' up everyday?
Strugglin' for the cash, scared of gunplay
Watchin' the news, believin' what the hosts say
I'm a sacred soul, to whom the ghosts pray
Like Amun-Ra with a  gold plate
I'll take a dead mans ashes, like Jose
Mix some wax with it, soul train
Resurrect myself, when the times change
Watch the full moon pass at the gun range
We suitin' up now, ensure the thumps aim
Perfect cuz we servin' the poor man like a sermon
Skinnin' heads, but we don't speak German, uh
Feelin' on this beat, workin'
Rockin' masks and these gloves like surgeons
Anonymous cuz the downtowns hurtin'
And if they on to us, we will change up for certain

Verse Three:

See you can't hold down the supressed and poor
We comin' hard now, but this a silent war
No need for gats just a clear mind
Human brain is a powerful thing, like gang signs
No need for tech nines but you will find
Some hard truths if you open up in time
But we ain't got much left
Time is running out, speeding up like dubsteps
So I gotta reach my subjects, Malcom X complex
Spittin' fuckin' bars in the triplex
Dreamin' bout the tropics, the man can't stop this
Human fucking swarm comin' like dropkicks
Leave the one percent transfixed
Affix metaphors send messages to clicks
Cardinal, Captain Hicks, see this bag of tricks?
Now decipher the codes on this damn mix