Pick A Bigger Weapon
The Coup

Bullets and Love (Introduction)
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

I'm a walking contradiction
Like bullets and love mixin'
Slur my words with perfect diction
I'm guilty of my convictions
Complicated compositions
Punctuated propositions
It's tenacious two-steps
Audio with ambition
Make you rev your transmission
In the intersection twistin'
When the Henny hits the ground
Sidewalks will be christened
I'm so nervous and sweaty
That this gat might slip out my hand
A homeless dude need a tip in his can
He put his bid in this, man
Now it's just bitterness, man
We need a bidness plan
I'm not just spittin' at fans
When I'm runnin' from the police
I don't have to rush
I'm so dope, I just jump
in the toilet and flush
we cut it, boil it, and hush
'luminum foil it and such
tryin' ta catch the few bucks
them big boys didn't clutch
we use them tweezers for crutch
when we done burned down the dutch
but when they Starsky And Hutch
we just shit outta luck

Roland Juno 106 Synthesizer: Michael Aaberg
Guitar: Steve Wyreman
Claps: Boots Riley

We Are The Ones
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

We
We are the ones
We'll seal your fate
Tear down your state
Go get yo guns
We
We came to fight
It's yo disgrace
smash up yo place
That's just polite

Once upon a time when crack was gold
and hip-hop was not yet platinum sold
I scoured the streets for stacks to fold
my mood, like my hair, was relaxed and blowed
I hated police and my teachers were beasts
my heat in the trunk of the classic caprice
the one university I knew was yale
so I cooked it, bagged it, put it on sale
now, philosophically, you'd be opposed
to one inhaling coke via mouth or the nose
but economically, I would propose
that you go eat a dick
as employment had froze
and I felt like and abandoned child
left to fend for myself in the wild
while every courtroom, judge, and gavel
were there to bury me under the gravel
or at the bottom of the finest malt ale
observe
you'll find without fail
that in every neighborhood and penitentiary
there exists many others who are similar to me and

We
We are the ones
We'll seal your fate
Tear down your state
Go get yo guns
We
We came to fight
It's yo disgrace
smash up yo place
That's just polite

In later years,
I lost some peers
who mixed burners with Belvedere
and took shots from gung-ho cashiers
the world was cold yet hell was near
so I saved for a kilo
and my stack got a little bit taller like skee-lo
a street C-E-O
there was all of this heroin and not one hero
the intensity was fortified
as I clenched five digits on the 45
belly-down at the retail store
I would detail more
but I don't wish these actions to be glorified
If there was a plan I was eager to listen
to not sleep in the park in the fetal position
having to wipe off canine fecal emissions
otherwise, I survive without legal permission
it's unequal division
and then we go prison
which is a lethal decision
all I wanted was the Regal to glisten
and my kids to have meat in the kitchen
I am complete ammunition
It's a given
once the people are driven
that

We
We are the ones
We'll seal your fate
Tear down your state
Go get yo guns
We
We came to fight
It's yo disgrace
smash up yo place
That's just polite

We are born from the mildew, the rust
the heathenous lust
the dreams in the dust
the evidence flushed
the grieving is just
they're thieving from us
insulted and cussed
this evening we bust
our pay is unstable
and under the table
we like free speech but we love free cable
we're taught from the cradle
the Bill Gates fable
which leads to high-speeds
in Buick LeSables
We have no excuses
just great alibis
and poker faces
you caint analyze
our politicians sell soul and our cries
with blood on their hands you can't sanitize
We're the have-nots,
but we're also the gon-gets
not just talkin' bout the lex with the chrome kits
you could get that by yourself with a fo-fifth
let's all own shit then toast wit Patron hits

We
We are the ones
We'll seal your fate
Tear down your state
Go get yo guns
We
We came to fight
It's yo disgrace
smash up yo place
That's just polite

Bass: Uriah Duffy
Guitar: Moses Kremer
Sequential Circuits Prophet 5
Synthesizer: Michael Aaberg
Background Chant: IRS

Laugh/Love/Fuck
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution
I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution

Now this thang finna end in fisticuffs
But if you gots to, go head, twist it up
'less yo job finna make you piss in cups
make you have to hustle rent with ya pistols up
now if Uncle Sam bomb us in his murder game
we gon' rise out the ash like that bird of flame
hopin' you take action from the word I brang
but if the police ask, you never heard my name
5 years old, eyelids half mast
bedtime is 8pm, it's half past
tryna take me to bed, I'd make the mad dash
scared in my sleep I'd miss what had past
quarter century later I'm still not sleepin'
if I'm not involved I feel I ain?t breathin'
If I can't change the world I ain't leavin'
Baby, that's the same reason you should call me this evenin'!

I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution
I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution

I'm finna take shots and make a mark
Not just take shots of Maker's Mark
That's how they make us marks
We got drive to see the whole system break apart
We finna drive to the lake and park
Before we start
Here's a club smellin? like sweat, rum, and perfume
She lettin' out whoops cuz they playin' her tune
If we could we would stay here till it were noon
Tell the sky we exist and resume
It's millennium three, we collared and cuff
It's world conversation, I'm hollerin' stuff
Like we done wallowed in muck and squalor enough
Who's the culprit? follow the buck
I'm just followin? up
Cuz, like me, you got's to be in the middle of it
Unravelin' the riddle of it
And to that you gon' ride on the powers that be
Well, I'm finna ride witcha, take me home in your little bucket!

I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution
I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution

(Da-da-doe-doe-doe da-da-doe)
I'm not just jabber-jawsin'
(Da-da-doe-doe-doe da-da-doe)
We up against the wall
(Da-da-doe-doe-doe da-da-doe)
We cain't just talk about it
(Da-da-doe-doe-doe da-da-doe)
Get all up in it y'all

I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution
I'm here to laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And help the damn revolution come quicker
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor
And maybe make a revolution

laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor (that's right!)
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor (that's right!)
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor (that's right!)
laugh, love, fuck and drink liquor

Bass: Dave Council
Oberheim OB-8 Synthesizer and
Hohner D6 Clavinet: Michael Aaberg
Congas: James Henry
Background Chorus and Bridge Vocals: Silk E
Background Chants: Oslem Asina, Silk E, Reginald Brown, and Dawn-Elissa Fischer

My Favorite Mutiny
(with Black Thought and Talib Kweli) (R. Riley, T.K. Greene, T.Trotter
Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)/Careers (BMI)/BMG Music Publishing (BMI)/Penskills Music (BMI)/Songs of Windswept Pacific (BMI)

Black Thought:
Move
If you got the nerve
Lash out for your just deserts
It's not just the words
Some o' y'all heads up in the cloud
I'mma bring y'all back to earth
It's Black back to burn
Bullshit y'all talking 'bout
Out ya mouth
I'm not concerned
Cuz y'all got to learn
It's yall turn like Detroit Red
When his head had a Ultra Perm
The long walk'll burn
Your bare heels
So throw on your boots
The game camoflauged like army suits
But I could see it more clear
cuz I came with The Coup in here
Ring the alarm and form the troops
Send 'em out into the world
Go to war on a fluke
Eye to eye with the enemy you sworn to shoot
Now I'm comin' at ya neck sick o' hearin' somethin' wrong wit me
Muthafucka somethin' wrong wit' you
When the chief just way to smart to question
The enemy the brothers of a dark complexion
The governments o' the world is shark infested
They heavy on weaponry like Charlton Heston man, It gets low...

Chorus:
I ain't rockin' wit you
So what what you gon' do?
It's my favorite mutiny
I ain't rockin' wit you
Your logic does not compute
It's my favorite mutiny

Boots Riley:
"Death to the pigs" is my basic statement
I spit street stories till I taste the pavement
Tryna stay out the pen where we face enslavement
Had a fullproof hustle till they traced the payments
I was grippin' my palm around some shitty rum
Tryin to find psalm number 151
To forget what I'm owed
As I clutched the chamode, I read "Put down the bottle and come get the gun"
Let's get off the chain like Kunta Kinte wit a Mac-10
They want us gone like a dollar in a crack den
Steadily subtractin' seeds and stems
Mind cloudy through the wheeze and flem
Numbin' my brain offa that and the Jesus hymns
If we waitin' for the time to fight, these is thems
Tellin' us to relax while they ease it in
We getting' greased again
The truth I write is so cold it'll freeze my pen
I'm Boots Riley
It's a pleasure to meet you
Never let they punk ass ever defeat you
They got us on the corner wearin' pleather and see-through
All y'all's gold mines They wanna deplete you
I ain't just finna rap on a track I'm finna clap on 'em back
And it's been stackin' to that 500 years befo' Iceberg ever leaned back in a 'lac
Befo' they told Rosa "Black in the back"
Befo' the CIA told Ricky Ross to put crack in a sack
And Gil Scott traded rappin' for smack
This beat alone should get platinum plaques
I'd rather see a million of us ecstatic to scrap
Cuz if we bappin' 'em back
We automatically stack...

Chorus:
I ain't rockin' wit you
So what what you gon' do?
It's my favorite mutiny
I ain't rockin' wit you
Your logic does not compute
It's my favorite mutiny


Talib Kweli:
This the cut like truancy
'Riq, Boots, and me
Activatin' the community
Up in the bay like Huey P.
They sucka free
It remind me of The BK
It's love for me
But the beast got it twisted
I'll untangle it
The Black mind intertwined
like the ropes they used to hang us wit
This my favorite shit
I came in the game wit a new way to spit
That got you questionin' who you bangin' wit
Take it back to Mhotep
I'll go a step deeper like a Poor Righteous Teacher Wit Holy Intellect
Killa Flow for all my real niggas left
But inform the family of the jiggaboo that there's been a death
Once again you can feel hip-hop
Underground Still about my guap
Gangsta,
Like "Fuck the cops!"
Talib Kweli revolutionary MC
And that aint about to stop...

Chorus:
I ain't rockin' wit you
So what what you gon' do?
It's my favorite mutiny
I ain't rockin' wit you
Your logic does not compute
It's my favorite mutiny

Bass: Dave Council
Yamaha Baby Grand Piano and Arp
Solina String Ensemble: Michael Aaberg
Guitar: Eric McFadden
Assorted Percussion: James Henry
Background Vocals: Viveca Hawkins
Chorus Vocals: Rod Gadson
Guest Verses: Black Thought and Talib Kweli

ijuswannalayarounalldayinbedwithyou
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

Monday rush
I'm sposed to skip
But I just found Sunday in your hips
Magic in the fingertips and lips
Electric touch
Solar kiss
Thoughts wrangled up
Legs tangled up
Baby do this feel good angled up?
Cain?t be expressed by a single fuck
Wanna gently caress it and bang it up
And yo smile just seems so comfortable
Sho' wish this clock wasn't functional
'sposed to be punctual
not keep the boss waitin'
but the sheet's weatin' and the ceilin' is pulsatin'
music from the birds and cars with beat
Stop. Pause. Repeat.
the stars release
y'know most o' my time belongs to the boss
baby, hold on tight
this is ours at least

I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
Givin? head to you

What time is it!?
What time is it!?
What time is it!?
What time is it!?
Every sober morning with you
Is like we drunk at the Super 8
With laughin' and plannin'
in between while we recuperate
We communicate
With mouths, fingers, and hands
Cell phones with clocks
a-thousand-free-minute plans
lose me in your details
break my codes
till all the good breakfast spots is closed
them rich folks gots ta knows
it's bout controllin' these minutes
they can party cuz we work 'till our lower back goes
the world outside feels claustrophobic
undercover of you is where my thoughts exploded
now back to our ancient lost aerobics
and the study of how bodies maybe tossed and folded?

'sposed to get up for work and ride on through
but last week he paid me with a IOU
I go to work at 9 if he don't pay me by 5
I'mma burn the place down by 5:02
Cuz when we give 'em all o'our ticks on the clock
They stack chips on a knot
We get pissed on a lot
We need a twist on the plot
But before we head to work
Scoot a little to the left,
Lemme kiss on the spot

I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
I just wanna lay around all day in bed with you
Givin' head to you
What time is it!?
What time is it!?
What time is it!?
What time is it!?

Bass: John Payne
Oberheim OB-8 Synthesizer, and Fender
Rhodes Electric Piano: Michael Aaberg
Chromatic Harmonica: Damion Masterson
Electric Guitar: David James
Acoustic Guitar: Damion Gallegos
Congas: Degi Simmons
Drums: Brian Collier
Violin, Viola: Ben Barnes
Claps: Boots Riley and Damion Gallegos
Talking: Dawn-Elissa Fischer and Boots Riley
Harp: Rebekah Raff
All other vocals: Boots Riley

Head (Of State)
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

Bush and Hussein together in bed
Giving H-E-A-D: head
Y'all muthafuckas heard what we said
Billions made and millions dead
Bush and Hussein together in bed
Giving H-E-A-D: head
Y'all muthafuckas heard what we said
Billions made and millions dead

In a land not very far away from here
George W. Bush was drinking beer
His daddy was head of the C.I.A.
Now listen up close to what I say
The C.I.A. worked for Standard Oil
And other companies to whom they?re loyal
In a whole nother land
By the name of Iran
The people got wise and took a stand
Told the oil companies that ain?t shit funny
This is our oil
Our land
Our money
C.I.A. got mad and sent false info
To Iraq to help start the iran/iraq wo
Pronounced war if I have to be proper
The C.I.A. are the cops that?s why I hate the coppers
Saddam Hussein was their man out there
They told him to rule by keeping people scared
Sayin' any opposition to him, he must crush it
He gassed the kurds
They gave him the budget
Said you gotta kick ass to protect our cash
Step out of line and feel our wrath
You know the time without lookin' at the little hand
Time came for them to cut out the middle man
Children maimed with no legs and shit
Cuz of bombs over- you know the Outkast hit
And they really want you to hate him dead
When just the other day they made him head
War aint about one land against the next
It's po people dyin' so the rich cash checks

Bush and Hussein together in bed
Giving H-E-A-D: head
Y'all muthafuckas heard what we said
Billions made and millions dead
Bush and Hussein together in bed
Giving H-E-A-D: head
Y'all muthafuckas heard what we said
Billions made and millions dead

Bass: Elijah Baker
Arp Odyssey, Oberheim OB-8, and
Oberheim Matrix 6 Synthesizers: Michael Aaberg
Background Vocals: Kween and Lawrence ?L? Wiley

ShoYoAss
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

Nows the time for you to show yo ass
They aint handin' out no mo?
cash
Mamas imitate my logo fast
Daddies take the safety off and blast
Nows the time for you to show yo ass
They aint handin? out no mo? cash
Mamas imitate my logo fast
Daddies take the safety off and blast

Now this is mo? mean than fo? fiends
With glocks unloading
Scrappin? for a bag of gold rings and codeine
Whole life savings hid under the molding
Mama said knock them out and I?m quoting
You?re voting which you?re hoping
Will stop the guns from smoking
Is someone fucking joking
They?re bankers in sheep?s clothing
I know places where the kids keep croaking
Lacking the essential vitamins and protein
Hustlin? and hyphy are eloping
I?m the best man bustin? shots and toasting
Sippin? Grey Goose get clipped off the bird
Come Sunday mornin? get tripped off the word
TV and them preachers got pimp talkin? verbs
Settin? us up to get ripped off and stirred
You flipped all them birds
So your funds act right
Here come the drought whole thangs half price
My high school career counselor?s advice-
?Little niggas act nice for your beans and rice?
I got some light, baby, take it to the head
I gives a fuck if it?s permed or in dreads
Never snitch to the locals or the feds
See they tryna break us so they don?t have to break bread
Cuz Uncle Sam ain?t the baker
He?s the butcher
We all on Punk?d wit no Ashton Kutcher
Where ballin? (not broke) cutthroats kaput ya
Ain?t never took dope but them dopes done took ya
Stop flyin? Ol? Glory man, cut it down
If your job ain?t payin? right, shut it down
If your car got 18?s, let it pound
And if we ever gon? do it let?s do it now

Nows the time for you to show yo ass
They aint handin? out no mo? cash
Mamas imitate my logo fast
Daddies take the safety off and blast
Nows the time for you to show yo ass
They aint handin? out no mo? cash
Mamas imitate my logo fast
Daddies take the safety off and blast

You?re in a system where they
flirt with disaster
tongue kiss death
have mass murder orgies
?till there?s no one left
they?re finger-fucking Lady Liberty
under her dress
and since I didn?t say this under my breath
I might be under arrest
Now lemme introduce
My slave name?s Ray Riley- you can call me Boots
Cuz we gon boot ?em outta power then spread the loot
We need to drive that freedom train, not ride caboose
And you can tell by the way I walk my walk
That there?s a coroner behind me holdin? chalk
Cuz he works for the county who works for the sate
Who works for the boss man eatin? off your plate
We ain?t one dimensional
Max-detentional
Lookin? for the liquor store
What them hubbas hittin? fo?
We raised by the streetlight
Praised for the streetfight
Days we ain?t eat right
Hazed to complete life
Had to make homes outta muck and dirt
Just to get dinner take luck and work
They don?t read me my rights
They induct a curse
So you?re cordially invited to go buck berserk
and um

Nows the time for you to show yo ass
They aint handin? out no mo? cash
Mamas imitate my logo fast
Daddies take the safety off and blast
Nows the time for you to show yo ass
They aint handin? out no mo? cash
Mamas imitate my logo fast
Daddies take the safety off and blast

The block is heated
Baby
Yeah
A hundred Fahrenheit
Act a fool
Show yo ass
Let?s make it alright
The block is heated
Baby
Yeah
A hundred Fahrenheit
Act a fool
Show yo ass
Let?s make it alright

It?s introduction of a new breed of leaders
Stand up organize
It?s introduction of a new breed of leaders
Stand up organize
It?s introduction of a new breed of leaders
Stand up organize
It?s introduction of a new breed of leaders
Stand up organize

The block is heated
Baby
Yeah
A hundred Fahrenheit
Act a fool
Show yo ass
Let?s make it alright
The block is heated
Baby
Yeah
A hundred Fahrenheit
Act a fool
Show yo ass
Let?s make it alright

Bass: Elijah Baker
Guitar: B?nai Rebelfront
Clavinet, Hohner Pianet T, and
Roland Juno 106 Synthesizer: Michael Aaberg
Background Vocals: Reggie B.
Claps: Boots Riley

Yes ?Em To Death
Voices: Boots Riley, Dawud Allah, and Jordan Rode

Ass-Breath Killers
(R. Riley, M. Aaberg; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP),Tiger's Milk Music (ASCAP)

Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath
Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath
Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath
Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath

Some confuse ass-breath with strong halitosis
it?s been hundreds of years since its first diagnosis
by the African doctor Mwangi Misoi
known in the States as ?Mr. Thomas? Boy?
he found that preventing this affliction was lost
with the mention of the phrase ?Um, yassuh boss.?
When that phrase was uttered
Many stomachs would wrench
Some jumped in the Atlantic to escape the stench
He noted Ass-Breath came from kissing ass a lot
To be the bosses knight-in-armor like Lancelot
Dr. Misoi, years later, before he was hanged
Developed pills with the taste of lemon meringue
Made from ground gun powder of Haitian slaves
And sweat from Seminoles who just wouldn?t behave
He tested first on young Nat from the Turner plantation
Then sent a batch off to the French speaking nation
It should also be noted
A bottle of it was found
In the clenched dead hand of the white John Brown
Every time it went round new people refined it
They would take their essence
Put it in and grind it
In Russia, Africa, Asia too
Mao Tse Tung made the flavors new
In Cuba, the people make new shipments
Of this drug that is on the FDA shit-list
They say ?It?s not recommended to take before dinner
With supervisors, presidents, [or such-type sinners]?
Take this pill and say what you wish you said
It hardens backbones- they might wish you dead
And it?s not to be confused with courage juice
Which we drank in chains and we still ain?t loose
These pills really should be taken in groups
Cuz Ass-Breath muthafuckas move with troops
MLK took half a pill
Procrastinated
Once he took a whole pill
They assassinated
Take Ass-Breath Killers to really get down
Wherever rocks, fire, and struggle are found

When it?s time to speak up and you can?t make a sound
Take the pills that?ll help you kick the king in his crown
Take Ass-Breath Killers to really get down
Wherever rocks, fire, and struggle are found

Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath
Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath
Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath
Y-Y-Y-Y-You?ve got ass-breath

Mini-Moog Synthesizer: Michael Aaberg
Guitar: Eric McFadden
Claps: Boots Riley
Background Singing: Viveca Hawkins
Spoken Vocals: Butch

Get That Monkey Off Your Back
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back

You know it ain?t fuh us
You know they think we dangerous
Even wit no thangs to bust
They wanna keep puttin? chains to us
That?s why I constantly sang and cuss
And when I bring it it?s a gang of fuss
They wanna send us out to bang fuh bucks
They must be offa that angeldust
So check it out

Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back

I?m a instigator
Mashin? out or in the scraper
And you can listen at me now or later
But stop givin? them pimps your paper
Used to be caught up in them capers
Havin? to hustle, rustle up my status
They beat my yellow ass purple like the Lakers
(more like the Clippers cuz they tryna fade us)
so holla wit me

Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back

Aight, we finally gots new momentum
Let?s fill the fridge up in the kitchen
It?s lotsa pots for cookin? D-boy chicken
But we still ain?t got one to piss in
They say I?m always fittin the description
Of sellin? unprescibed prescriptions
But it?s them with the green addiction
Think we gon? have to shake ?em off and keep dippin?
So sing along

Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey
Get that monkey
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back
Get that monkey off your back boy
Get that monkey off your back girl
Get that monkey off your back

Get your foot off my neck!
Get your foot off my neck!
Get your foot off my neck!
Get your foot off my neck!



Bass: Dave Council
Guitar: Eric McFadden
Oberheim OB-8 Synthesizer, Farfisa Organ, and Hohner D6 Clavinet: Michael Aaberg
Congas: Degi Simmons
Background Vocals: Alina Hubbard-Riley, Stic.man

MindFuck (A New Equation)
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

They?re givin? us a MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation
MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation

The fog rolls in like the thickest cream
Nightfall comes and the crickets scream
Deafened by the latest lotto ticket schemes
Cement lies and white picket dreams
The pain on his face is glistening
No ones eyes are listening
Till his 44 starts whistling
Hairs on necks- bristling
You can holla so loud till the silence comes
Ask that hustla with the midas tongue
He was born after you but not quite as young
Waitin for the day when the fighters come
She said ?Seem like traffic lights is always red?
?Your application?s on file,? is all they said
She wish the great leaders wasn?t always dead
She could resurrect ?em inside of her instead
They?re givin? us a MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation
MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation

He was killed in the end by quiet persuasion
Not the FBI home invasions
Nor the cross on his lawn emblazoned
The predictable fights didn?t phase him
Bullhorns off-Holidays given
House notes-9 to 5 prison
He yells at the news, sayin? ?There?d be a movement
If the new generation was a little more driven?
One mind. Two hands. Four walls.
She says Babylon's gon' fall
She?ll tell you the signs
Since everybody?s dumb
She?ll be home waitin? for
the messiah?s phone call
There was pride in the fact that the blunt was massive
Tight like the ships in the middle passage
They escaped through the flames
Then wondered
If the flame in their soul
If the smoke had smashed it

They?re givin? us a MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation
MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation
Day breaks in like a fiend with a ladder
Suicidal dew drops splatter
Teeth on shirtless bodies chatter
A blowjob short of a breakfast platter
Crowded rooms of lonely souls
At work before the whistle blows
They never new their strength in numbers
So power seems so mystical
They?re waiting for that perfect day
When they?ve paid all their bills
The kids are grown
They graduate
And guerrillas come out the hills
And for her it gets too much
Till she won?t accept my touch
She?ll fix it by herself
she?s fallen into their MindFuck

They?re givin? us a MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation
MindFuck
They don?t have to put our hands in cuffs
They can tell us stay put and that?s enough
We bust, they feel the earth vibratin?
It ain?t a earthquake, we just need a new equation

Bass: Uriah Duffy
Guitar: David James
Guitar Solos: Eric McFadden
Fender Rhodes Electric Piano: Michael Aaberg

Two Enthusiastic Thumbs Down
Voices: Boots Riley, Dawud Allah, Jordan Rode,
and Jello Biafra

I Love Boosters!
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

I love them boosters
They love them boosters
You should love ?em too
Even if they don?t know ya
They?ll get it fo? ya
Like a whole outfit or shoe
I love them boosters
They love them boosters
You should love ?em too
Even if they don?t know ya
They?ll get it fo? ya
Like a whole outfit or shoe

A booster is a person who jacks from the retail
And sells it in the hood for dirt cheap re-sale
In these hard times they press on like lee nails
In all o? my experience
Their sex has been female
Back elementary my shoes used to rap
Every time my soles hit the street they would flap
Then in high school Langston Anderson would cap
Cuz my jacket didn?t have a brand name on the back
Years later this lady took me to her apartment
Looked like the Macy?s sportswear department
Clothes on the chairs, on the couch and the carpet
A twenty had me icy like pissin? in the arctic
If it wasn?t for the hard work of a booster
Most couldn?t go to the clubs that they?re used ta
If you don?t get dressed up they?ll boot ya
Like people who get dressed up won?t shoot ya
For some o? yall folks this stuff might phase ya
This ain?t the way that society raised ya
But most of it was made by children in Asia
The stores make money offa very low wages
Next time you see to women runnin? out the gap
With arms fulla toys still strapped to the rack
When they jump in the car, hit the gas, and scat
If you have to say somethin? just stand and clap

I love them boosters
They love them boosters
You should love ?em too
Even if they don?t know ya
They?ll get it fo? ya
Like a whole outfit or shoe
I love them boosters
They love them boosters
You should love ?em too
Even if they don?t know ya
They?ll get it fo? ya
Like a whole outfit or shoe

This goes out to all them hard working women
Who risk jailtime just to make them a living
We know there?d hardly be no one in prison
If rights to food, clothes and shelter were given
Plus they be keeping me dressed so fresh
Even when my wallet yells S.O.S.
In a cheaper Sunday suit you feel a little mo blessed
So until the revolution that I profess
My shirt is from Stacy
My pants are from Rhonda
My shoes came out the trunk of a baby blue Honda
My wardrobe?s in luck in something falls of the truck
If you?re looking for some leather then go see Yolanda
If I?m on the red carpet and they asked who designed this
I?mma give a shot out to bay area?s finest
All on our own we survive this with slyness
But when we get together
All our fashion is flyness

I love them boosters
They love them boosters
You should love ?em too
Even if they don?t know ya
They?ll get it fo? ya
Like a whole outfit or shoe
I love them boosters
They love them boosters
You should love ?em too
Even if they don?t know ya
They?ll get it fo? ya
Like a whole outfit or shoe

You should love them too
You should love them too
You should love them too
You should love them too

Bass: Elijah Baker
Guitar: Jubu Smith
Hohner Pianet T: Dave Council
Chorus Vocals: Myron Glasper and Boots Riley
Tiffany Hall
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

Tiffany Hall
It appears we didn?t know you at all
Hey hey hey hey hey
With this song I write your name on the wall
Tiffany Hall
It appears we didn?t know you at all
Hey hey hey hey hey
With this song I write your name on the wall
Tiffany Hall

You was all smiles and no games
Teeth white as cocaine
Dark skin
Knew about the struggle and the dope game
Quick to spark a convo into flames like propane
Filled the air
And I was thrilled you cared
In summer bridge hiding from the tutors
Bumpin gums about the future
You said that one day we?d be ruled by computers
I said ?it?s like that now cuz we all machines?
And you replied ?but I?m a robot with dreams?
Which I thought was clean
And all the fellas used to talk about ya
How you had a joyful aura and a walk about ya
Necessitated by a beautiful backside
We thought you was fine
And we didn?t let the facts hide
Nevertheless we would call you ?waddle waddle?
Somebody shoulda slapped us wit a old hot water bottle
Coulda called you ?talky talky? or nothing at all
I was crushed when I got the call

Tiffany Hall
It appears we didn?t know you at all
Hey hey hey hey hey
With this song I write your name on the wall
Tiffany Hall
It appears we didn?t know you at all
Hey hey hey hey hey
With this song I write your name on the wall
Tiffany Hall

You had warmth and sincerity
A heart with no barriers
A laugh that made slightly funny turn hilarious
While everybody else mouthed off about answers
You got up and started workin? with some ex-black panthers
Leadin? campaigns and writin? in they newspaper
You always seemed happy
An idea that I would lose later
We would see each other sayin? stay in touch
But I was just like you- always busy, in a rush
Told yo mama I was writin this
She said it was blessin?
I?m just chantin? your name out loud
And confessin?
That maybe I was part of your demise
You went and got liposuction
On your ass and thighs
Came straight home and as you slept that evenin?
Bloodclots from the operation
Stopped you from breathin?
Your shape was great if I may say so
Way before J-Lo
Whoever told you it wasn?t had horns not a halo
Or is it just that your behind was up to discuss?
Cuz as a man, mine ain?t talked about much
Dear Tiff, I wish the world wasn?t missin? yo vision
Sincerely, one mo robot with a dream and a vision

Tiffany Hall
It appears we didn?t know you at all
Hey hey hey hey hey
With this song I write your name on the wall
Tiffany Hall
It appears we didn?t know you at all
Hey hey hey hey hey
With this song I write your name on the wall
Tiffany Hall

Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!
Hey Tiffany! We love you!

Bass, Hohner Pianet T, and
Arp Odyssey: Dave Council
Guitar: Jubu Smith (Chorus) and David James (End)
Violin, Viola, and Cello: Ben Barnes
Chorus Vocals: Myron Glasper

BabyLet?sHaveABabyBeforeBushDo
Somethin?Crazy (feat. Silk E)
(Words: R. Riley, Music: R. Riley, D. Wiggins; Field Negro Music/ Music of Windswept(ASCAP),D'wayne Wiggins Music Publishing (ASCAP)

Baby let?s have a baby before bush do somethin? crazy
Baby let?s have a baby before bush do somethin? crazy
I don?t want the world to blow before we get a chance to let our love grow
I don?t want the world to blow before we get a chance to let our love grow
I don?t really wanna fuss and fight
Baby we might have numbered nights
We might never get our money right
We could take off this patch tonight
Bombs goin off everywhere
The police got us runnin? scared
But I still got some love to share
Plus you know I stopped smokin? squares
Baby let?s have a baby before bush do somethin? crazy
Baby let?s have a baby before bush do somethin? crazy
I don?t want the world to blow before we get a chance to let our love grow
I don?t want the world to blow before we get a chance to let our love grow
I don?t really wanna fuss and fight
Baby we might have numbered nights
We might never get our money right
We could take off this patch tonight
Bombs goin off everywhere
The police got us runnin? scared
But I still got some love to share
Plus you know I stopped smokin? squares

Bass: Uriah Duffy
Guitar: D?wayne Wiggins
Violin and Viola: Ben Barnes
Vocals: Silk E

captain sterling?s little problem
(R. Riley; Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
It?s a wrap then
(Hey!)
Grab the Mac-10
(Yeah!)
Plan of action
(What!?)
Kill the Captain
(Yeah!)
Excuse me colonel sir, May I request please
Permission to go home or blow off your knees
It?s a wrap then
(Hey!)
Grab the Mac-10
(Yeah!)
Plan of action
(What!?)
Kill the Captain
(Yeah!)
In case you?re wonderin, well yes I?m gon fight
I?m finna join the army, but one you don?t like

Needed some stackoli to get free like a parolee
Now I?m in apparel colored shit and guacamole
In another country brought to you by Coca-Coley
Ordered from the top to shoot everything holey-
Shit I?m nineteen and I?m missin? all my homies
All that fight for freedom shit- we know that shit is phoney
Free to work at Shoney?s bout one hour for six boneys
And everyday we hustle scratch and scrape for macaronis
And cheese, bullets squeeze outta my assault weapon
Tear through the air
Then his chest
Then his breaths end
Looked like my homie from the hood I be reppin
I wept then, changing from a soldier to a veteran
Left in shambles bout this kin of no relation
Crept in the sergeant?s tent with quiet calculation
Message from the soldiers to the brass administration
Looks like Captain Sterling?s finna have a situation

It?s a wrap then
(Hey!)
Grab the Mac-10
(Yeah!)
Plan of action
(What!?)
Kill the Captain
(Yeah!)
Excuse me colonel sir, May I request please
Permission to go home or blow off your knees
It?s a wrap then
(Hey!)
Grab the Mac-10
(Yeah!)
Plan of action
(What!?)
Kill the Captain
(Yeah!)
In case you?re wonderin, well yes I?m gon fight
I?m finna join the army, but one you don?t like

Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo

?I have just killed my first but it may not be the last one?
I screamed this at the sergeant with his head pressed to the magnum
You brought us to this country not to free but bodybag them
And free up all their money so accounting firms can add them
Drag them and their corporates to their own battle
Now they?re dragging usw to the slaughter like cattle
Me and this whole unit we will start to ramshackle
Listen very closely you can here the fire crackle
You could weigh the air as he was breathing out his nostrils
Couldn?t understand why we were seeming so hostile
Said ?We spread democracy? like he was preaching gospel
Slapped him in his head and said ?Now shut up Sergeant Roscoe!
If this is not explicit, lemme tell ya straight out
We?ll no longer kill to keep this country drained out
We want up outta here like on the next planes out
Tell the Cap?n make it or we?ll blow his brains out!?

It?s a wrap then
(Hey!)
Grab the Mac-10
(Yeah!)
Plan of action
(What!?)
Kill the Captain
(Yeah!)
Excuse me colonel sir, May I request please
Permission to go home or blow off your knees
It?s a wrap then
(Hey!)
Grab the Mac-10
(Yeah!)
Plan of action
(What!?)
Kill the Captain
(Yeah!)
In case you?re wonderin, well yes I?m gon fight
I?m finna join the army, but one you don?t like

Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo
Get yo ass off the flo

Bass: Vernon Hall
Guitar: Jubu Smith and Tom Morello
Guitar Solo at end: Tom Morello
Hohner Pianet T: Michael Aaberg
Background Chants: Lawrence ?L? Wiley
and Reginald Brown
Bridge Vocals: Lawrence ?L? Wiley

The Stand
(Organized Elements, R. Riley; Organized Elements Publishing(ASCAP), Field Negro Music/Music of Windswept (ASCAP)

This is the place where I take my stand
Take a stick and draw a line in the sand
Show my hand
Initiate the actions planned
Now meet the rubber on my shoe or meet my fuckin? demands
Here?s the place where I take my stand
Take a stick and draw a line in the sand
Show my hand
Initiate the actions planned
Now gimme time for assault or gimme back my clams

As the saltwater drips from my oculars
I got the urge to just squeeze on the glock and burst
My fingertips wipe away my teardrops, I curse
You diggin? in my purse
So may you rock a hearse
This feelin?s popular
cuz people?s kids need socks and shirts
and if you po you get whopped the worst
hopes of Hollywood endings without plot the first
be happy all I did so far is drop a verse
see I?m old school like coke lines and LP covers
learned how to hustle then run when the heat hovers
fist to my heart, warm embrace, how I greet others
cookin? with no lights make my fish burn like deep cover
keep cover cuz I?m finsta spray
I go from sun up to sun down and miss the day
You been sayin? for months that you gon? fix my pay
While the hours of my life get pissed away

This is the place where I take my stand
Take a stick and draw a line in the sand
Show my hand
Initiate the actions planned
Now meet the rubber on my shoe or meet my fuckin? demands
Here?s the place where I take my stand
Take a stick and draw a line in the sand
Show my hand
Initiate the actions planned
Now gimme time for assault or gimme back my clams

Weed and dope
Speed and hope
When we bleedin broke
We get keyed and cope
When ecstacy pills don?t stop SBC bills
We get all depressed like we need a rope
Poundin walls
cain?t handle it
Ten days with the candles lit
When the fridge cheese green and the pocket cheese silver
Ain?t no hustle too scandalous
And I?m a champion
At runnin my mouth
But I?ll be campin
If I?m kicked out the house
So here?s my anthem sing it to the music or shout
I forfeit the rat race to start the 12 round bout
I got your damn IOU in my hand
Thinking of things I can do with two grand
But I?m a light it with a bic then use it as a wick
To burn your shit down
Cuz I?m through wit you man
(less you pay me)

This is the place where I take my stand
Take a stick and draw a line in the sand
Show my hand
Initiate the actions planned
Now meet the rubber on my shoe or meet my fuckin? demands
Here?s the place where I take my stand
Take a stick and draw a line in the sand
Show my hand
Initiate the actions planned
Now gimme time for assault or gimme back my clams

Mama
Never raised no punks, naw
Brawlin? but not crawlin?
Time to put my all in
Mama
Never raised no punks, naw
Brawlin? but not crawlin?
We starvin? but y?all ballin?

Bass: Elijah Baker
Guitar: Cameron Hunt
Wurlitzer Electric Piano, Hammond
B-3 Organ: Michael Aaberg
Horn Section: Pete Ortega (sax),
Isaac Tena (Trumpet)
Bridge Vocals: Kween
Hi-Hats: Q Jackson
Claps: Boots Riley

The Coup is:
Boots Riley on vocals,
Pam The Funkstress on turntables,
and various friends with things that make noise.

All Songs Produced By Boots Riley except ?The Stand?, Produced By Organized Elements

All Drum Programming By Boots Riley except on ?The Stand?, Drum Programming By Organized Elements

All Scratches by Pam The Funkstress

Recorded by Boots Riley in The Little Red Room, Oakland, CA. Additional recording by Matt Kelley at Cookie Jar Recording, S.F., CA,Damion Gallegos at Chubb Studios, Oakland, CA

All Songs Mixed by Matt Kelley and Boots Riley at Cookie Jar Recording except ?The Stand? Mixed by Matt Kelley, Organized Elements, and Boots Riley
At Cookie Jar Recording and ?Get That Monkey Off Your Back? Mixed by Jordan Rode and Boots Riley at Cookie Jar Recording

Cover art by: Kenneth Hung
Management: Ken Erlick, ken@damnmusic.com,(503) 963.8508

Booking: The Windish Agency,
tom@windishagency.com, (773) 489.3500

Legal: Roger L. Cramer, Esq.

We are in a daily struggle against a soulless system. For many of us, that struggle is a solitary one- with the never ending rent race as a tactic, daily survival as a strategy, and guaranteed food, clothes, and shelter as a long-term goal. Our weapons in this war are usually pitiful paychecks, hope-drenched hustles, mind-numbing medications, or frustrated fury that crashes and burns. We wage these battles individually, all the while understanding that most of the human beings in the known universe are going through this struggle and have a common enemy- The Ruling Class: That group of wealth-and-power-mongers who are able to command decisions on such varied things as how many people the U.S. Military will kill in the Middle East, to the price of coffee beans in South America, to how many hours you're going to have to work to put food in your family's bellies.

We all have to up the ante. These individual daily struggles need to be fought collectively. Then we can win. Until then we will choose inadequate weapons, tactics, and strategies.

The name of this album came about while me and my woman were at a restaurant with the poet/publisher/all-around-bad-ass Jessica Care Moore. Dawnelissa was on her 3rd Grey Goose Martini and trying to order a 4th one when Jessica stopped her, saying "C'mon girl, pick a bigger weapon." Yeah, there it is. That's what we need to do. Pick a bigger
weapon.

www.thecoupmusic.net
www.myspace.com/thecoupmusic
www.okayplayer.com