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    LL Cool J
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    All We Got Left Is The Beat

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    All We Got Left Is The ...
    Released


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      About "All We Got Left Is The Beat"

      Lyrics for LL Cool J - "All We Got Left Is The Beat"

      hey, hey, check it out homie
      Man, you need to get up out of this spot man
      And get a job man before you get smoked man
      (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah son)
      I know you don't want to hear it man
      But, hey, man, wait, hold up loc you got company man
      (where's my guns?)

      When I'm ridin' on the street I hear gunshots (rare shots)
      Crack niggas cause they moms missed flips
      So black man really care about politics
      In the ninety's, our governments so slick
      I watch CNN sometimes and I realize
      They're playin' tricks on my mind
      They want a man to work with his hands
      Too young to die, and they don't give a damn
      Rare-momma got down on her knees
      But not no more, god damn it, I make cheese
      I'm on the move and I'ma show and prove
      You might cry to my political groove
      Rest in peace,
      Sauce Brothers underneath
      I love you to death while my beats' like a reef
      In the middle of the night on the city streets
      The only thing we got left is the beat

      [Chorus]
      All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
      All we got left is the beat, huh, give it to me
      All we got left is the beat, the beat, yo
      All we got left is the beat, uh

      Who brings guns into the USA?
      And then makes sure that they come around the way
      Gain the points until the whole race traps
      And teach up my woman that she should call up the cops
      The projects are hell, wait a, minute
      There's nothin' we do but ride on top of an elevator
      Say the clubs, I can't get a job
      Mouth to feed, somebody's gettin' robbed
      I ain't worked, but I ain't workin' for crumbs
      You ever seen a man-shelter?
      Check out the bombs!!!
      Brother of pain, their whole lives are over
      They spent every dime tryin' not to be sober
      And all the ladies got bags of clothes
      They'll be your long lost momma, one never knows
      The streets are like a nightmare
      While the presidents secretary is chillin' in his leather chair

      [Chorus]

      Lemon to a lime, lime to a lemon
      When you need a toga-black, hire black linen
      Your rippers' man applause when he can't get a job
      He gets up all of his family and feels like a slob
      The black women don't understand
      Cause they don't realize what it is to be a black man
      In the mornin', a brother feels like a jerk
      Seein' black women and white men go to work
      So all women fear, the brothers ain't real
      Cause they won't give us no jobs, that's the real deal
      Hold my hand while I get it all together
      They don't deserve me at times of bad weather
      Cause I'ma make it out the concrete walls
      And there's another way besides basketball
      Let me go, let me do what I do
      I'm red, black and green, then red, white and blue

      [Chorus]

      Ridin' in the street you can feel the city heat
      A little bit of grass and a whole lot of concrete
      Creepin', I'm standin' on the corner
      And you can get robbed if you want to
      Paybacks a mother on the street
      You're seein' gold teeth, ya hearin' funky beats
      Brothers ride by real slow
      You get leary when they got tinted windows
      Sittin' on the steps with a blunt
      I'm drinkin' Valentine, I wasn't raised up front
      My Aunt Ellie always talked about God
      Tell me you never cried cause its so hard
      Government got a hell of a plan
      But word is born they ain't destroyin' this black man

      [Chorus: x2]

      SONGWRITERS:
      ERVIN, BOBBY F/SMITH, JAMES TODD/COLLINS, GEORGE
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