[Intro: J. Morris]

Khao

No justice, no peace in these streets

Can you hear the babies crying?

Politicians and crooked police

Worried about the mighty dollar

[Chorus: J. Morris]

Instead of us, Instead of us, Instead of us

Got another shot fired

They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us

If we ever get united

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, T.I.]

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Ayo, chill

[Verse 1: T.I.]

Remember late night in the **** hole

With a half bag and smoke pole

It’s a cold game

You admittedly gave *******

To the same people that you locked up

Gave a life sentence and did the whole thang

That what the plan was the whole time

Now I keep a nigga with some closed eyes

Celebrating your holidays

Pray to yo God 'cause you stole mine

Kill a nigga when they whistling at yo women

When you come and rape mines

Tearing down our heroes

You do the same thing, but you keep yours

Quick to hit a nigga with the RICO

See the bullshit through the peep hole (Bap)

Hustle air to the death

Listen shorty, all we got is our G code

Better stand up or get rolled over

Hit the front line, let 'em go, solider (Bap)

Huh, yo partner they some shooters, huh (Huh)

All you niggas wanna kill something

Shoot at Chief Keef, shoot at 6ix9ine

But do a damn thing to George Zimmerman

Okay, and all these black women come up missing

Where da **** is all the real nigga (Where)

All you niggas shooting in the club

Get yo hard ass in the field, nigga

Okay, I’ll be damn if I won't bust mine

Risk my life, take my time

No, you niggas ain't revolution ready

Y’all ain’t even finna waste my time

[Chorus: J. Moriss]

They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us

Got another shot fired

They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us

If we ever get united

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, Khao]

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Yuh, Khao

[Verse 2: Khao]

Get the Illuminati

Call the White House to talk to somebody

About our forecast on life, no sunny days

Man, the vision's cloudy

No need to be alarmed, get rowdy

Call for back up, cops double up

Your project was to keep us in the hood

In other words, blinded, covered up

Not exposed to what we could have

Got me irate, man, and I hate

How the knowledge that we lack got us taken back

To a slave driven mind state

Willie Lynch, it’s encrypted from

The play book that it’s scripted from

Brother say he’ll die for a neighborhood that his momma just got evicted from

Another name that the cops slained

Better lay low when it’s close to dark

They bucked at me, threw the cuffs at me

Boycotted the bus like I was Rosa Parks

You say you wouldn’t join the military

But you trapping hard, so you might as well

Another agent for the government

When you're in the hood serving clientele

Think about it, we in the hood trapping and loving it

The same way a soldier representing the government

Soldiers supplied with their weapons and training

The same way we are with the drugs were slanging

Gotta wake up, its time, people

Everybody get in line, people

The system played us and you can’t see it

Like I’m in a world full of blind people

[Chorus: J. Morris]

They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us

Got another shot fired

They scared of us, They scared of us, They scared of us

If we ever get united

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, Joyner Lucas]

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Joyner, Joyner, yeah

[Verse 3: Joyner Lucas]

I got into a lot of trouble back when I was 10

Back when I use to have a lot of friends (Yeah)

Back when I ain’t have no common sense (Woo!)

Back when I use to play Simon says

And never listen to a thing my Momma said (Joyner)

With a thing for myself so I pretend

Do I wanna be rich, well it depends

I mean, I can be rich like Hov and Puff

I can be rich like Warren Buff (Yeah)

Or I can flip bricks and all them drugs

But that’s more trouble for all of us (Yeah)

Som****es I be thinking hard to much

Like what if Triple X was hard to touch (Huh)

What if Rosa never caught the bus (Huh)

What if more parents was hard on us (Yeah)

An' look, what if Kaepernick wasn’t all black (All black)

What if Trayvon and Zimmerman never crossed paths

What if Malcolm ain’t have a dark past

What if (What if, huh)

What if Sean Bell never got engaged

What if Donald Trump never got his way

What Dr. King ain’t have a lot to say

Make way for penalty (Yeah)

AKA the killer me (Yeah)

The KKK got denim sheets (Yeah)

But niggas can’t even kneel in peace (Nah)

Niggas can’t wait to get at me (Joyner)

Police can’t wait to finish me

Throw dirt on my name and spit at me (Yeah)

Then shoot me and say I’m finicky

I gotta pray for my enemies

[Post-Chorus: J. Morris, Grey]

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble)

Trouble (Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble)

Grey, ay

[Verse 4: Grey]

They know what it is

They know we the truth

And when they seen pyramids, we were through

They drew up scheme to wipe us out clean

They seen all the greatness and never recouped

Conditioned our minds to believe that we less than human

With a book to recite to the youth

Manipulation got us tight in the noose

And everyday we see it right in the news

It’s blasphemy that you’ll blast at me

If I smash ya sneaks and be a casualty

But won’t flash the heat when the crackers beat

Ya black ass to sleep

You wanna ask for peace

And then crash the streets strapped wit da gasoline

Burn da shit down to an ash and leave

These protests backwards if you askin' me

Cuz when the party’s over and yo asses leave

Cops still kill a nigga before da nights done

Care less if they shot the right one

We just record and let the likes run

All these images we seein', it gotta incite something

While you stunting on the gram wit all the nice guns

Pull up wit da stick, you got to light one

All these oppressors, you got to strike one

What we gone do, fight or run our mouths, nigga?

[Outro: J. Morris, Khao]

No justice, no peace in these streets

Can you hear the babies crying?

Yo welcome