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Artist: W.C. and the Maad Circle
Album:  Ain't a Damn Thing Changed
Song:   Behind Closed Doors
Typed by:

[-W.C.-] Aiy Toones!
[Toones] What's up, man?
[-W.C.-] How many of your people in your neighborhood got one of this?
[Toones] What's that?
[Female] I have just fallen, and I can't get up!
[Police] We're sending help immediately Mrs. Freeture

[Verse One: W.C.]
Dear Mr. chief of police, excuse my handwriting
But try to understand that I wrote this with a broken hand
I'm just one out of many from the inner city
Whose been a victim of unseen police brutality
Beating with a Billy Club until I became numb
Pistol whip - bruises on my face from a handgun
They said: that I was speeding, going over the limit
But when they pulled me over man, they never gave me a ticket
They just said: I better stick both of my hands out my window
Real slow or be one dead negro
Uhh.. but I was used to the routine
I moved in a slow pace, cause I don't wanna be a mistake
But that's when your boys got the tripping on me
They pulled me out my car and they're both started kicking on me
I ain't no Punching Bag man, my name ain't Greddy or Freddy
For a cop to be beating me anytime that he's ready
So I dropped to my knees and I covered my head tight
But that's when they bust me in the neck with a flashlight
But still I stayed calm and took the pain
Pictured when my ancestors gone through the same thing
But then I started thinking about the brother from Al Tadena
Who once have said: I was the next in their agenda
So I gotta flip, hurtle, hit the corner with flash bags
So held my chase in Jesse York's
But when I woke up, another black and a white room
Paralyzed waist down from a bullet wound
And now I'm being charged for resisting arrest
But it was either catch a bullet or be beating to death
Now for the rest of my life, I got tubes connected to my lungs
Just because your boys wanted to have fun
So here's a complaint, to let the whole world know
This is what goes on behind closed doors

[Chorus: Dawn Silva, Jackie Simley]
The policemen are your friends
They're here to protect and serve
But as long as you're white then you're alright
And you won't get beat to the curb
The policemen are your friends
They're here to protect and serve
But if you're black, you better not talk back
Cause if you do; then you will get burnt

[Verse Two: Coolio]
Back up on the streets after five long hard years
I did my time on Concrete in Steel tears (HELL NO!)
No - it wasn't the crime of the century (YEAH)
And no - I didn't enjoy the penitentiary (What's up?)
But that was in the past now I'm back on the pavement (WORD!)
With two kids that gone on full probation
It feels kind of good not to carry a shank
I got five hundred dollars on my way to the bank
Oh oh, here come a black and white; I'm gonna get jacked tonight
(Who Was That, HUH?) and it's Officer O. White
The same crooked cop from along time ago (What's up?)
Who planted an ounce in my homie El Camino
With a smile on his face, he said welcome back nigga
Had his partner on the side with his finger on the trigger
I knew the routine, so I assumed the position
Started searching through my pockets like he was on a mission (WORD!)
Yo, came up over my nuts and look what I got
I said: That's money that I made in the Metal Shop
As he put it in his pocket and said: End of Conversation
And you better start walking or face a violation
I looked him in the eyes and knew he was a punk
Another sissy with a badge just trying to front (WORD!)
I told him take off your gun and we can go some
And if you ?? from the shoulders, you can have my funds (WORD!)
He didn't hesitated and threw the first punch
But quickly I ducked, and went straight for the nuts
With a left, right - right left, right left -----> Ice Cube
Goddamn! - but did you knock him out? -----> W.C.
Yep, and that's when his partner put his gun in my side
And said: Get in the trunk, punk; we're going for a ride
They took me to a hood that my hood was feuding with
Locals in a park, drinking Forties and kicking it
?? is getting wet, and waiting for a picnic
They let me out the trunk and said sick him (Sick of that bullshit)
That's how the story goes (What?) - in a rat hole
Cause I'm a second class citizen, behind closed doors

[Chorus: Dawn Silva, Jackie Simley]

[Verse Three: W.C.]
Hanging at the crack house, slanging my ya-yo
I'm making about a twenty thousand dollars a day or so
But here comes Johnny the Narco
The neighborhood cop from around the block
Hoping that he can pot my spot
But wait a minute, he is solo - Oh no
Something smelling fishy, y'all, cause that ain't like 5-0
I wondered what's up, I seen him slowly stepping out of his ride
Now he's calling me off to the side
I'm peeping out the corners for back-up
Cause nowadays smokers be snitching on niggaz and setting them up
But it was far from a set up
It was more like a proposition aimed for me to stay in my business
A little side money for the dirty cops
To keep the feds off my back while I'm slanging my rocks
I should've listened to my homies and told them to go to hell
And took any chance of getting busted and going to jail
But instead, I got to paying the cops off weekly
Until they took advantage and started getting greedy
That's when I told him that I was stepping out
I'm just a memory from the past, and they can Kiss My Ass!
But that's when they started black mailing me
And yelling and telling me: Uhh.. you, black sheeps will be sorry
So later at that night, when I was at home sleep
Somebody kicked in my door when they yelled out FREEZE!!

... Open that Door!

[Outro: Tom Blaw]
This time the suspected drug dealers spotted the crash officers
before they hit the front door..