Clockers

There is a place

That is so hard to find

Behind the walls

We build inside our minds

Some break the walls Some break the rules

Some even get things changed

And when they do that leads to the truth

Yet questions still remain

But all that it's saying

Somewhere in life there's a joy to be

Between the hope and reality

There in a mirror and then the street

That's where you'll find

People in search of a life

And what of love

Is that a point of view?

And when you're alone

It can seem so confused

That's when a friend can pull you in

Lend you a helping hand

But what happens when your only friend

Sells you out in the end

How do you face it?

Somewhere in life there's a joy to be

Between the hope and reality

There in a mirror and then the street

That's where you'll find

People in search of a life

In search of a life

Whoa-oh-oh-oh

Searchin '

Lookin' in a bottle

Lookin' in a needle

Lookin' in the street Yeah, yeah, yeah

Searchin '

Everywhere

Uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh

Oh-oh-oh

Straight from Brooklyn, better known as Crooklyn

Never take us short cos Brooklyn's the borough

Straight from Brooklyn, better known as Crooklyn

Never take us short cos Brooklyn's the borough

We did it like that and now we do it like this

We did it like that and now we do it like this

Yeah

Now the clock hits Who got the cocaine?

Don't tell me it's the little kids on Soul Train

The metaphor sent from my brain to my jaw

It comes from other places, not the typical places

Journalistic values are yellow and then the court falters

You watch Channel Zero and that bitch Barbara Walters

She'll have you believe black invented crack

When President Lyndon had to form a law way back in '63 with Kennedy

Yes, the double-cross

Remember that's when they blew his fucking head off

Vietnam vets come back lookin' like one-armed pets

Mixin' thoughts, purer text

No picket fence, no job, no ATM in the car

Blue collar comes to bourgeois

Depressed in your chest...

Chuck D is the bomb, boy.

What?

Get the fuck outta here. Chuck D ain't shit.

That nigger Chuck D is assed out, and the rest of Public Enemy.

That what I'm sayin'.

Speech, motherfucker. What about him?

Speech? He a bitch-ass nigger.

How the fuck this thing gonna say Chuck D the hardest rapper?

Nigger ain't never shot nobody.

You gotta be hard nowadays!

First of all, I know niggers ain't slappin'

bitches up. They ain't takin' pussy.

Niggers ain't shootin' shit up, ain't done time for murder.

How the fuck they hard?

Do what you gonna do. I ain't buyin' shit that ain't hard-core.

You ain't gotta shoot nobody to prove you're hard-core.

Hold on.

Only niggers I have representin'

is my man Tupac, G Rap and Wu-Tang.

Motherfuckin' Dr. Dre, straight up.

You said it. No fuckin' around.

Niggers talkin' all this positive shit.

Motherfuckin' world ain't positive.

That's why motherfuckin' sex and violence sell more records.

All I'm saying is I like positive rappers, get it?

Get the fuck outta here.

Them niggers ain't homeboys.

Put them poor-ass niggers over there.

Come on, yo, yo. Forget that shit, man.

We gots to be about business.

You ain't supposed to be over here.

Get your ass over there! You supposed to be on the lookout.

This ain't no joke.

It's hot outside, man.

We gots to get that money.

I understand that, but it's hot.

Psst!

What's up, man?

What's up, man? How ya doin'?

What you need? What you got today?

I got red caps. They're phat. Two for one, man.

Lemme take two.

Two? All right, hang tight.

Everything all right, man?

Yeah.

Shit. You know that, man.

Children of the ghetto

Runnin' wild and free

In a concrete jungle

Filled with misery

There's no inspiration...

What's up, man? You got the money?

Keep an eye out, all right?

Raise up!

Motherfucker! Come here!

Get off me, man! Get off me!

Hey, Strike, where's the fuckin' dope? Stand the fuck up.

Where the vials at, man? I know you're carrying.

Collars for dollars. What the fuck is this? The local church?

Yes. Ah, gotcha!

What you doin'? I got nothin'! Why you checking me for?

Get the fuck off my ass! I don't play that maricon shit, all right, man.

I love the smell of surprise...

Smell your fuckin' breath.

It smells like victory, brother! Victory!

Always in the news

Toughness is their motto

And bitter are their blues...

Open your fuckin' mouth. Lift up your fuckin' tongue.

Lemme see under your tongue. Open.

Take off your fucking pants, or whatever

you fucking call 'em. Dicky check time.

Spread your butt cheeks, man. Spread 'em. Let's go.

Let's see under your balls. You know I hate doin' this.

Lemme see under your ball bag.

Strike's balls. Strikes and balls.

Three-two, full count. Basesloaded with bacon strips.

Pull up your pants, bitch.

Man, where's your personal hygiene?

You're a motherfucking liar. I change my drawers every day. I stays clean!

Let's get the fuck outta here. It's over!

See you later, bro.

Fuck you, too, man.

Fuck whoever you...

Some niggers had you assed out.

Glad to be of service, fellas!

Somebody gonna drop a cylinder block on your ass!

Take that fucking gun and badge...

Ain't got the stomach for this shit no more, man.

You see my doctor yet?

Huh? You go see my doctor like I told you?

That Moo shit is what's killin' you. Get rid of that shit.

Here. Drink that. Not the whole thing.

Yo, Rodney. Can't take it much longer, man.

I'm tellin' you.

Maybe you won't have to take it much longer.

You know who you're looking at?

That's Darryl.

That's Darryl Adams, the thief. That's who that is.

He's stealin' from me.

Layin' back in the cut, passin' some baggies and rakin' in the dough.

Nice indoors work, huh, Darryl? Clean, safe.

You got this clown sellin' ounces? Why him? What's up with me?

'Cause you like my son, man. Strike, my son.

If I'm so much your son, then why

my black ass always up on them benches?

I need you to be where I need you to be.

Had this dream last night.

I'm standin' in the desert with all my kids.

My for-real kids, my kids from the store.

They's all laid out in front of me,

like they's my army or something.

God comes up, points at you.

Tells me, "This one right here is

gonna be your sword and your staff."

God, man. God said that. He pointed right at you.

Darryl Adams wasn't even in the motherfuckin' dream,

'cause that boy's a thief, and he got to be got.

Got?

Got. Hmm.

Can't you get Errol for that shit?

You know Errol gave hisself the big

The virus.

My man messed around and took that "A" train.

Anyway, can you see Errol in there sellin'

whale on a bun and ounces and fries?

No.

Strike, you really wanna get off the benches?

You deal with it, for me.

The illa killa The one for the thriller

The one from the hood actin' like a gorilla

I need the illa killa The one for the thriller

The one from the hood actin' like a gorilla...

You got any chocolate Moos?

No, we don't have no damn chocolate Moos.

This is a bar, son.

Moooo!

Yo, Ronnie!

Oh, shit.

What's up, man?