Nine Twelve

My go to 9/11 song was posted here previously so it’s just the words a day late.
The thoughts aren’t totally worked out but the power of the rap is in the linking of concepts that most hip-hop fans probably want to see linked more often.

There’s thousands of people worldwide dying in the ghetto everyday due to some type of police terrorism, knowhumtalmbout? But when the World Trade Center fall down then all of a sudden that’s when we gonna take everything to heart… all of a sudden the Star Spangled Banner everywhere all up in the ghetto, knowhumtalmbout? And these niggas ain’t never did shit for us. Probably runnin around with fuckin' American flag thongs on…

I come to you as the people representin' far and wide
Africans po' and oppressed on eachother’s side
Holdin' court and on trial is the government
Guilty is the verdict and death is the punishment
For slave ships and whips and mental anguish
Ripped of our culture from the land to the language
So 9-11, in the mornin', when them planes hit
It ain't make no difference to my crew and who I bang with
Or who I rep fo’
Its still police in the ghetto
Niggas be careful cause you can get blowed
These MCs with power playin' grab ass. Makin' soap operas… Who won Hova, Nas or Beans or Jada?
My nigga, later for that!
‘Who the hardest artist?’ bullcrap…
You want the haps, nigga? Cellphones is tapped
And two-way pagers is cheap
And e’rrybody got Direct TV, so don’t sleep.

The towers fell and now George Bush declared the war is on
Along with that came laws that state we cain’t say what we want
For some that shit ain’t matter cause they ain’t have jack to say
But for us that’s the battle that we face everyday
And we still gone fight and say what's right so, hey, fuck what they say

How about these crips and these bloods repping USA?
How about these pimps and these thugs yelling ‘Bombs away’?
All in the name of America like they patriots
Brake check, bitch, hope y’all niggas ain’t forget
Crackrock. Little white shits blew through the hood paintin' the town red
So many folk I knew are now dead
And that's includin’ Diallo and Malcolm and Pac
Now who deserve to get shot?
Now who the pimp and who the whore on the block?
Who runnin’ game and who the game getting ran on?
Pussy boys put your pants on
Fuckin'. Sleepin'. Eatin'. Mantan.
Rappers on the bandstand, coonin’ doing handstands
Actin’ like these crackers beef is your beef
You dumb fuck, you don’t own these streets. This ain’t your grief
Stupid, let me make your ass aware of this:
Young plus black plus gats equals terrorist

chorus

If you young and you black then you a terrorist
And you got you a gat then you a…
If you a boy in the traps then you a…
And you aware of the facts then you a…
Ain’t with them stripes and stars then you a…
Don’t fuck with cops at all then you a…
You say to hell with them laws then you a…
And want rebellions to start then you a…
If you stickin' to truth then you a…
And you reachin' the youth then you a…
If you back it with proof then you a…
And lay it down in the booth then you a…

Tahir - Hidden Track (Terrorist)