New York City Cops Lyrics & Chords By Heems

Aight man, here’s a book I wrote about cops in New York
(Son, do you know what I’m stoppin' you for?)
You know, I’m sayin' fuck the police, fuck the NYPD
(Son, do you know what he’s stoppin' you for?)
They never made me feel safer
He had the badge ID covered in black tape (covered)
Irish dude spends his weekends in blackface (a weirdo!)
Smacking Immigrants, asking them how the crack taste (Guatamalans!)
Mushed his pregnant wife face while she lactate (a bad man!)
Over-overseeing the rat race
Goes to Cape Cod when Manhattan feels too fast paced
Now he hate God, disgraced, odd and out of place
And he takes it out on us (his experience)
Victor
what happened with them BART cops
Told ‘em, “Yo, I ain’t ever met a smart cop” (they’re idiots)
Alec said no one heard of you like a cool cop
In '01 almost shot the fair one with a school cop
Louima
cause they could have did'd me wrong (I’m brown!)
That’s word to Eleanor Bumpurs in a Lou Reed song
Protect and serve, keep from the way of harm
Timothy Stansbury was 19 and unarmed
Ayo, fuck the New York pricks and dicks
Who wanna be a cop but a power hungry idiot?
New York cops are the worst!
Oy vey,
these guys is New York’s spineless
Strangled and denied it for Anthony Baez
They was cruel, maybe had a pool, probably
That was ‘94, he was one of three bodies (unarmed)
Ernest Sayon (unarmed)
And Johnnie Cromartie (unarmed)
Under Giuliani, well, they had them a party (bang bang!)
In '73, there were riots in Queens (Jamaica)
When they merked Clifford Glover, he wasn’t even a teen (a child!)
Used to be nine, he had just turned ten (a child!)
Pig said, “Die, you little fuck” and got off clean (yup)
And ain’t a thing that these bars do
That can make up for the pain of the family of Fermin Arzu
They the ones who always put the firearms pon you (on you!)
But shoot and say they thought you had a gun up in the car, dude (there’s no gun, no gun)
Ousmane Zongo '03,
Diallo in like '99
I swear this shit happen like 90 times definitely
Definitely happens, like, plenty times
But it’s documented, like, 20 times
Well, Randolph Evans, well —
Randolph Evans was 15 in 1976
And a cop did two years for shooting him
One time, point blank in the head
And thirty years later exactly, on his wedding day
Four officers (in Queens) shot 50 bullets
And Sean Bell was, uh, dead
Veteran detective Oliver, two magazines, no remorse, geez, man!
Gescard Isnora
Basquiat ‘81, Irony of Negro police, man
Back in the day on the train Dap was G’in a Cremaster poster
Guyanese cop look like me (speedin’!)
Rolled up, plainclothes tucked, gun in the holster
Said not to do that.
It bugged me out
They could look like me, too?
Y2K Grand Wizard Giuliani wasn’t done
Bad boys, bad boys
took Patrick Dorismond
Plainclothes asking him where to cop tree
Shot him one time and didn’t have to flee
Well, yo, it was an accident, see
And once again the boys in blue got off scott free
(“Well, I’m white, sooo…I own this place?”)
No rap?
Alberta Spruill was 57 and didn’t leave her home
They tossed a concussion grenade into her living room
And scared her to death
I never felt safer
Its bugged out that they're supposed to make you feel safer
(“Well, I’m a white cop, so I own this… world?”)
Heems awn like em, Radio Raheem don't like em
(“Uh, yeah, well, I’m white, soooo…”)
And Michael Stewart who do art under the ground
Got found and laid down by
Eleven white cops that pound
-ed him for thirty-two minutes between arrest and delivery (they played with the paperwork!)
Alive and barely breathing, to dead in ‘83
Radio Raheem (Spike Lee!)
I don’t fuck with cops!
Its Heems!