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The following lyric translation
has been translated by Neil Amin and may or may not completely convey the original
message of the song's artist. The song's original lyrics are in normal text,
translations are in italics.
Changes
| Translation |
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Come on come on…
I see no changes wake up in the morning and I ask myself is life worth living
should I blast myself?
I dualistically beseech for unmentionable celestial
forces to revive into existence. To much dismay, I have observed no
contradistinctive contingencies. Thus, I entreaty to differentiate which of the
two situations at hand is most favorable: to live life under such extenuating
banausic conditions, or removing the quintessence of life from the mortal body
via modus operandi of lethal coercion.
I'm tired of bein' poor & even worse I'm black, my stomach hurts so I'm lookin'
for a purse to snatch.
Cops give a damn about a Negro.
I have become exasperated at my monetary echelon of
euphoria, and my racial ethnicity of African-American has not contributed
positively to my current state of well-being. Due to an inadequate amount of
fluid assets at my disposal, my stomach aches as that of a 10-year-old child
waiting for supper. This current state apportions no alternative but to ransack
for and acquire a currency receptacle, preferably with a sufficient amount of
funds to meet my desires. It has come to my attention that, people who uphold
various laws and regulations to ensure domestic tranquility have overlooked and
neglected the African-American race; therefore I shall continue to dispose my
feelings concerning these individuals.
Pull the trigger kill a nigga he's a hero.
Give the crack to the kids who the hell cares, one less hungry mouth on the
welfare.
Ensnare the life of an African-American thug through
duress, and the civil servant is accosted as a demigod. Disperse the drug
cocaine in its substantial compact form commonly acknowledged as “crack,” to
adolescents and observe as the act remains unquestioned and corrupts their
intuition.
First ship 'em dope & let 'em deal the brothers.
Give 'em guns step back watch 'em kill each other.
It's time to fight back that's what Huey said.
2 shots in the dark now Huey's dead.
Allocate thought altering narcotics for public use, and
behold the massive demise of the African-American abusers. Disseminate armaments
in the expectations of witnessing self-afflicting actions. Retaliation is the
key, as the ambiguous Huey once declared. For his mentioning of this so-called
resurrection, Huey was reprimanded with two shots in the still of the night.
I got love for my brother but we can never go nowhere, unless we share with each
other.
We gotta start makin' changes.
I have the utmost veneration for my colleagues, yet we
may never reach eminent goals unless the concept of partnership is mandated. As
a collaboration of individuals seeking amelioration, we must induce
transmutations.
Learn to see me as a brother instead of 2 distant strangers, and that's how it's
supposed to be.
How can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me?
Matriculate to view me as a kinsmen rather than an
itinerant person, the appropriate approach to the current situation of
dismemberment. How can Mephistopheles seize a kinsman of whom I am scrupulously
affiliated?
I'd love to go back to when we played as kids, but things changed, and that's
the way it is.
As much as I would adore to reminisce in our glory days
as puerile youth, situations evolve, and unfortunately as does the course of
life.
[Bridge with erratic ad libs]
Come on come on
That's just the way it is
Things'll never be the same
That's just the way it is
aww yeah.
I dualistically beseech for unmentionable celestial
forces to revive into existence. Circumstances excogitate, and that is how the
inter-workings of the universe elucidate.
Never again shall our quandary be the invariable.
Circumstances excogitate, and that is how the inter-workings of the universe
elucidate.
Emphatic yes.
I see no changes all I see is racist faces, misplaced hate makes disgrace to
races.
We under I wonder what it takes to make this, one better place, let's erase the
wasted.
Despite my requisitions, I have witnessed no reform,
just intolerant expressions. Unwarranted loathing begets abasement to all
secular races. We must dematerialize the enfeeblement, in decorum of initiating
an improved society for all.
Take the evil out the people they'll be acting right, 'cause both black and
white is smokin' crack tonight.
And only time we chill is when we kill each other.
Efface the emotions of Lucifer from civilians to
restore sensibility, because both bourgeois of Aryan and African descent are
enthralled in the same ecstasy this evening. Time will cease and become a
figment of our acuteness when we are the ones who precipitate this malapropos
annihilation.
It takes skill to be real, time to heal each other.
And although it seems heaven sent.
We ain't ready, to see a black President, uhh.
To achieve an acceptable level of unfeignedness
requires an immense dexterity. Time will mend these afflictions generated by the
unprepared mind. Acceding the contemporary tolerance standard of modern day,
humanity remains primitive to the notion of an African-American President.
Pronounced “uhh.”
It ain't a secret don't conceal the fact the penitentiary's packed, and it's
filled with blacks.
But some things will never change.
It is not a clandestine permanence that the
preponderance of reformatories persists in volume, and accommodates a prodigious
amount of African-Americans. Unfortunately, such situations as the
aforementioned may never vacillate.
Try to show another way but you stayin' in the dope game.
Now tell me what's a mother to do, bein' real don't appeal to the brother in
you.
I encourage you to adopt a new avocation, but yet you
repudiate and continue to reside in the enterprise of administering narcotics.
How is a matriarch supposed to react to such vile deeds? Maintaining a suitable
level of “realness” is a task which does not captivate the companion in you.
You gotta operate the easy way…
"I made a G today" But you made it in a sleazy way
sellin' crack to the kid. " I gotta get paid,"
Well hey, well that's the way it is.
The method by which you conduct yourself must be in a
manner distinguished by accessibility and facility. Although you may have
increased your monetary wealth by an amount substantiated and denoted by a value
of one-thousand dollars, your means of obtaining this newfound wealth was
dilapidated. Your dotterel mitigating statement that you require capital does
not warrant selling sedatives to children. Abominably, as circumstances
excogitate, that is how the inter-workings of the universe elucidate.
[Bridge] (2x)
[Articulating]
We gotta make a change...
It's time for us as a people to start makin' some changes.
Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live
and let's change the way we treat each other.
You see the old way wasn't working so it's on us to do
what we gotta do, to survive.
The time for transmutation is nigh. As a society it has
come to my awareness that we must spawn copious modulations. Let us adjust the
way in which we absorb solid materials, the way in which air circulates
throughout our bodily organs, and the method of appraisal and affability towards
our fellow man. This decrepit approach has yet to flourish, so the burden falls
upon the community to accomplish goals by any necessary means, to persevere.
And still I see no changes can't a brother get a little peace.
It's war on the streets & the war in the Middle East.
Through all our exertion, I view no altering of the
standards and plead for an individual, namely myself, to receive some cessation.
Hostility reigns supreme on the domestic avenues and the battle fulminates in
the Middle East.
Instead of war on poverty they got a war on drugs, so the police can bother me.
And I ain't never did a crime I ain't have to do.
Rather than quell the ongoing struggle to vanquish
barrenness, the cynosure bustles to the narcotics war. Being an erstwhile abuser
of opiates, the authorities will not cease to persecute me. Throughout my tenure
as a “thug” per se, I have never committed a malefaction that was haphazard.
But now I'm back with the blacks givin' it back to you.
Don't let 'em jack you up, back you up,
crack you up and pimp slap you up
You gotta learn to hold ya own.
In a collaborative fashion, I team with my fellow
Africans and disperse an unmentioned “it” to the original creators. I adjure you
not to let the convalescent superiors “jack, back, crack, or pimp slap” you up.
In order to prevail, one must be determined to adhere to their surroundings.
They get jealous when they see ya with ya mobile phone.
But tell the cops they can't touch this.
I don't trust this when they try to rush I bust this.
Law upholders turn red with envy as they observe one
normally of aridity with a receiver-transmitter mobile communication device. If
this so becomes the case, acquaint to the civil servant that he as MC Hammer so
eloquently put, “can’t touch this.” When malfeasance in the officer overwhelms
you, do not hesitate to retrieve your death inducing apparatus.
That's the sound of my tool you say it ain't cool, my mama didn't raise no fool.
And as long as I stay black I gotta stay strapped, & I never get to lay back.
As you apperceive the reverberation of my blood
wielding handgun, which is not considered “cool,” I shall use this opportunity
to remind you that my mother, in fact, did not raise any unsocial entity. Due to
my ethnicity of African-American, I am naturally inclined to possess a weapon at
all times, and never to relinquish this right.
'Cause I always got to worry 'bout the pay backs.
Some buck that I roughed up way back, comin' back after all these years.
rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat that's the way it is uhh.
Atrocities in my name account for my reasoning for
agonizing over the retaliation movements. A promiscuous gentlemen that I
actuated, returns after an inveterate hiatus.
Mysterious enigmatic phrase, but as circumstances excogitate, that is how the
inter-workings of the universe elucidate.
[Bridge until fade]
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