Artist: W.C. and the Maad Circle Album: Ain't a Damn Thing Changed Song: Behind Closed Doors Typed by: firstname.lastname@example.org [-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..