Peace. haha don’t make me laugh!. All I hear is muthafucker’s talkin’ sucotash. Livin’ large tellin’ me to get out the gang. I’m a nigga gotta live by the trigger. How the fuck do you figure?. That I can say peace and the gunshots won’t cease. Every cop killin’ goes ignored. They just send another nigga to the morgue. A point scored- they could give a fuck about us. They rather catch us with guns and white powder. If I was old they’d probably be a friend of me. Since I’m young they consider me the enemy. They kill ten of me to get the job correct. To serve protect and break a niggas neck. Cuz I’m the one with the trunk of funk. And ’fuck tha police’ in the tape deck. You should listen to me cuz there’s more to see. Call my neighborhood a ghetto cuz it houses minorities. The other color don’t know you can run but not hide. These are tales from the darkside.... Verse two:. You wanna free africa I stare at yuh. Cuz we ain’t got it too good in america. I can’t fuck with them overseas. My homeboy died over a key of cocaine. It was plain and simple. The 9mm went pop to the temple. pop pop pop was the sound I put the bitch down. And ran to the schoolyard bathroom. Looked in the trash can yo it had room. So I ducked my ass in it for a minute. Covered with sweat I had the layback. Mad as fuck thinkin’ about the payback. Tonite the crew gonna have a little fun. I went home and cocked the barrel of my shotgun. It’s gettin’ critical - I start the five point o. There they go - drive real slow. I yelled out ’ice cube sucka’. Shot gun hit - and murder mutahfuckers. I told you last album when I got a sawed off bodies are hard off. Its a shame that niggas die young. But to the light side it don’t matter none. It’ll be a drive by homicide. But to me it’s just another tale from the darkside.... Verse three: chuck d. Standing in the middle of war. The middle we flex. When we die they won’t make check. Ebony can’t see to the darkside. The term they apply to us is a nigga. Call it what you want cuz I’m comin’ from the coroner. Same applies with a phd. Who’z black - don’t wanna role - sells his soul. Watch his head go rollin’. Who the fuck are they foolin’?. Nobody knows but I suppose the color of my clothes. Matches the color of the one on my face as they wonder what’s under my waist. [standin on the verge] of them gettin’ brown. Thats a fact got a fear on their bozack. Run run run their ass off they can not hide. Yet cube they can’t fuck with the darkside!