Body Count
Body Count Lyrics

You know, sometimes I sit at home, you know, and I watch TV
I often daydream about living in a place like The Cosby Show, Ozzie and Harriet, where everything is perfect.

But you see, I live in South Central, Los Angeles. And unfortunately, shit ain't like that. It's real fucked up.
Unfortunately, I live in South Central Los Angeles where life is completely different from my idealistic daydreams. It's a tough, fucked up place.

Goddamn, what a brother gotta do to get a message through to the red and white and blue. What? I gotta die before you realize I was a brother with opened eyes? The world's insane while you drink champagne and I'm living in black reign.
I'm frustrated that I can't get my message across to the people in power. It's almost like they have to see one of us die before they even acknowledge our existence. The world is a crazy place, you all are living it up while I'm struggling to survive being black in America.

You try to ban the A.K. I got ten of them stashed, with a case of hand grenades.
You may try to ban firearms like the AK-47, but I already have a stash of ten of them, along with some hand grenades.

(Tell us what to do?) Fuck you!
I am not interested in hearing your advice. Screw you.

You'd know what to do if your kid got killed on the way to school, or a cop shot your kid in the back yard. Shit would hit the fan motherfucker and it would hit real hard. I hear it every night, another gun fight. The tension mounts, on with the body count.
You would understand where I am coming from if your child were killed due to gang violence or shot by a cop. Things would get intense and messy real fast. Every night, I hear the sounds of gunshots and the tension in the neighborhood grows as the number of dead bodies rise. It's a constant reminder of the brutality of life here in South Central.

Yo Beatmaster V, take these motherfuckers to South Central. Ha ha ha, yeah, fuck that.
Hey, Beatmaster V, let's show these people what real life is like. Screw them for glamorizing our struggles.

Last weekend thirty seven kids killed in gang warfare in my back yard. No! No! No! Yo Ernie C, take these motherfuckers home, yeah. Yeah we in the house, Body Count fool, 1991 motherfucker.
Just last weekend, the violence claimed the lives of 37 children in my neighborhood. It's heart-wrenching and needs to stop. Ernie C, let's take these people home. We are Body Count, representing the realities of life here in 1991.

Don't you hear the guns? You stupid, dumb, dick sucking, bum politicians.
Can't you hear the sounds of gunshots all around? You foolish, incompetent politicians who do nothing to help the people suffering in your country.

(Tell us what to do?) Fuck you!
I am not interested in hearing your advice. Screw you.

The tension mounts.
The stress and danger of life in South Central Los Angeles continue to rise with each passing day.