Inside Out
clipping. Lyrics

Wa-lah!
An exclamation of surprise or satisfaction

Pullin' rabbit food out of parker
Obtaining healthy food from unlikely sources

Carrots catch the light right, up the block from the farmer
Fresh produce sourced from local vendors

He got that lettuce, that cabbage, that broccoli
A variety of vegetables to choose from

Tryin' to catch a fire Locks like Marley
Emulating Bob Marley's iconic hairstyle

That Chevy frame rattling like a Caribbean roof-top in the rain and the window panes wiggle following suit
The car is shaking violently, reminiscent of the roofs in the Caribbean during a storm

And the black suites sell bean pies, and the cream suites shout soap box And the lime-green suites send angles to the streets with botox (Shh)
Sales pitches from street vendors offering various products, from food to cosmetics

Don't talk Cuz there's rollers in the corner (whoop!) Football on the blacktop Little C rush the quarter Five alligator, six alligator, seven alligator, car! Game on, till the street lights came on Crowd out by the Save-On Paper bags 'round tall cans, talkin' that old manishness like "Man, when I was 22 I woulda coulda used to be the shit!" Or the high-waisted bikini model standee Two eleven in penny candy
A scene of young boys playing football and chatting about their past exploits while drinking beer from paper bags and admiring a bikini model standee

It's a storm comin' Everybody inside It's a war comin' Stack your bread, get high Gotta pour somethin' Out for the homies Turn that beat up Get loaded It's a murder on the outside, everybody inside Murder on the outside, everybody inside Murder on the outside, everybody inside Inside out now, lock n' load, lets ride
A warning of incoming conflict, with suggestions of preparing for it and paying tribute to those lost. Then a call to action to gear up and move out

Donald Duck, Sunny D, Tampico, Capri-Sun Orange couch, plastic wrap, what's happening re-run Oak frame hologram Jesus portrait Brown shag carpet, broken screen door to the back porch Tykes in the toilet gurgle every six minutes like clock-work Grandfather's clock not working Great grandmama's Crock Pot chocked full of stew meat 'Who, me?' said a speech bubble on a dog on a Sunday morning comic Clipped and stuck up to the fridge with big chip bag magnet Big chips stacked in the armoire Behind glass, where the dominoes and the Bicycle cards are And the thick, yellow and crystal tumblers One sits on the table With a single ice cube melting into a thimble full of Jack Daniels The telephone receiver hangs Swingin' by the cord And the front door is swingin' Wide open, accordingly And that big block engine turnin' over in the Caprice That's peelin' out of the driveway, lettin' the tires schreech
A description of a cluttered and eclectic interior design style, complete with nostalgic items and a phone ringing off the hook. Culminating in the loud sound of a car leaving in a hurry

Orange cones and yellow tape Palm trees swayin', passers by all look the other way Nobody speak to police this or any other day They comb the streets, knock door to door asking for mother's sake Trying to catch another break Body on the pavement 'bout 10 steps from the front porch Photographer snappin' pics to go with the coroners report Of the seven exit wounds, three in the skull four in the torso Blood spread dry, red black red snapback even more so Lays three paces to the south The direction of the wind New deputy pissed picking up shell casings again Finds one in the browning grass by the sagging four foot high chain link fence Drops it in a bag marked 'Evidence' Here come that Caprice again Rolling too slow up the street men sit four deep in They seats and slow up by the scene, bandanas hide they faces But all they heads are shakin' They nod in unison and hit the coroner without breakin'
A graphic depiction of a crime scene, with the police and a photographer present. The shooter is unknown and escaped in a Caprice-style car. Observers acknowledge the brutality without intervention