The Jack Back - Sir Mix-A-Lot

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I've been jacked by the racist scum, and here I come
Klan, run 'cause revenge is fun and I'm that one
To make you Tapdance with a shotgun
On Donahue they said they had weapons

Just to teach black people one lesson
But I ain't goin' to your school of fools
So come here and look at my tools

You can meet and greet the Glock 19 in your nostrils
I'll splatter your dreams
Plans to overthrow are left in limbo
'Cause one loco bro chose to dispose of you and your skinhead crew

I ain't a house nigga with a twenty two
I dump a hollow point slug in your windpipe
Try to breathe, believe the hype

'Cause this ain't the jungle fool
And I don't throw spears, and I ain't leavin' here
A Nazi and you ain't never seen Germany
But you was lookin' for a enemy

So you found a young brother with cash
Crashed my glass, snatched my whole stash
Boy I'ma getcha back, like it ain't no thang
Show you what I learned from the gangs

Stack 'em up deep in a six nine deuce
Long range scopes for the whole damn group
Hangin' outside a club called Moonshine
Waitin' for the right time

There he is, walkin' in the Levi's blue cut
The wicked one dropped two shots in his butt
I can't solve racism with a gat
But this is where my head's at, get 'em with a jack back

"You ask me the niggers around here
Been treated awful bad for a long time"

I've been sayin' this, I gotta fix 'em
I wanna fix 'em with a crucifixion
Nail 'em to a cross and burn 'em
Burn 'em, burn 'em, burn 'em

It's been said that this would happen
Skanless skinheads jackin'
All up in the crib insult for takin' my force
I had to break North

The leader had a spray paint can
And on my wall wrote, 'Death to the black man'
Burned a cross in front of the hideout
Hopin' they could get my race to die out

I'ma 'cause 'em pain, physical and mental
I speak slowly, through the temple
The wicked one is talkin' trouble
Blastin' skulls into pieces of puzzle

Damage 'em so bad, they can't stop me
Not enough body left to get an autopsy
Skinheads, stakin' 'em out
Bloodshed, takin' 'em out

Caught one of 'em, mix said, "Go ahead"
Thirty eight, straight to his forehead
I hit 'em hard and it hit the spot
I punish and plot with mix a lot

Now where's the leader at? Gotta get him back
Gotta get the gat, gotta get the axe
Call it a revengeful murderous pact
Call it the jack back

"Some things are worth killing for"

They burned a cross in my yard, caught a brother off guard
But I can't cry, 'cause I'm hard
They jacked another black, but this black wants payback
I rack up killin' stats

Now, I'm on the hunt with a 12 gauge pump
Massive hardware's in my trunk
Creepin' low and slow
There's one, roll down the window
Whassup, fool?
("No")
It ain't done 'til the punk stops breathin'

Watch Kunta Kinte get even
It goes like that when a brother stays strapped
Couldn't get a job so I learned to rap
Livin' kinda large and the skinheads hate me
Run up in my house and they tried to take me

Now I got the metal to his dome
A desert eagle, dipped in chrome
I got a black stocking cap yanked over my face
Anger is takin' rationality's place

Hitler's in the house and I'm takin' him out
He shouts but the barrel's in his mouth
Before I shoot, he wants to know if I'm white or black
I yank my mask, this has been a jack back

"These boys were trained activists"

I'm not a slave but the Ku Klux Klan
And the Aryan Nation say I am
What's behind the skinheads out to getcha?
The reincarnation of Hitler

Now, I got a murderous attitude
I'm in a put 'em in a casket mood
Remember the days of slavery?
They hung many black men from a tree

We fought to be free real hard
And the black man's freedom must not be scarred
Callin' me an African Sambo
But after this, "American Psycho"

And I'll smoke any skinhead racist
With the black Glock that's in my fist
And the morgue'll be packed in body stacks
Memories due to the jack back

Caught the leader of the skinhead clan
You know the one with the spray paint can
Drilled him with a crowbar die
In the left ear, out the right eye

Then I took a knife to his chest
Carved a wicked message in a bloody mess
It was a warning for the rest of his pack
"This nigga got him with a jackback"Lyrics provided by TANCODEhttp://lyricsever.com/" readonly=""/>

The Jack Back Lyrics

"In this country a man's home is his castle"

I've been jacked by the racist scum, and here I come
Klan, run 'cause revenge is fun and I'm that one
To make you Tapdance with a shotgun
On Donahue they said they had weapons

Just to teach black people one lesson
But I ain't goin' to your school of fools
So come here and look at my tools

You can meet and greet the Glock 19 in your nostrils
I'll splatter your dreams
Plans to overthrow are left in limbo
'Cause one loco bro chose to dispose of you and your skinhead crew

I ain't a house nigga with a twenty two
I dump a hollow point slug in your windpipe
Try to breathe, believe the hype

'Cause this ain't the jungle fool
And I don't throw spears, and I ain't leavin' here
A Nazi and you ain't never seen Germany
But you was lookin' for a enemy

So you found a young brother with cash
Crashed my glass, snatched my whole stash
Boy I'ma getcha back, like it ain't no thang
Show you what I learned from the gangs

Stack 'em up deep in a six nine deuce
Long range scopes for the whole damn group
Hangin' outside a club called Moonshine
Waitin' for the right time

There he is, walkin' in the Levi's blue cut
The wicked one dropped two shots in his butt
I can't solve racism with a gat
But this is where my head's at, get 'em with a jack back

"You ask me the niggers around here
Been treated awful bad for a long time"

I've been sayin' this, I gotta fix 'em
I wanna fix 'em with a crucifixion
Nail 'em to a cross and burn 'em
Burn 'em, burn 'em, burn 'em

It's been said that this would happen
Skanless skinheads jackin'
All up in the crib insult for takin' my force
I had to break North

The leader had a spray paint can
And on my wall wrote, 'Death to the black man'
Burned a cross in front of the hideout
Hopin' they could get my race to die out

I'ma 'cause 'em pain, physical and mental
I speak slowly, through the temple
The wicked one is talkin' trouble
Blastin' skulls into pieces of puzzle

Damage 'em so bad, they can't stop me
Not enough body left to get an autopsy
Skinheads, stakin' 'em out
Bloodshed, takin' 'em out

Caught one of 'em, mix said, "Go ahead"
Thirty eight, straight to his forehead
I hit 'em hard and it hit the spot
I punish and plot with mix a lot

Now where's the leader at? Gotta get him back
Gotta get the gat, gotta get the axe
Call it a revengeful murderous pact
Call it the jack back

"Some things are worth killing for"

They burned a cross in my yard, caught a brother off guard
But I can't cry, 'cause I'm hard
They jacked another black, but this black wants payback
I rack up killin' stats

Now, I'm on the hunt with a 12 gauge pump
Massive hardware's in my trunk
Creepin' low and slow
There's one, roll down the window
Whassup, fool?
("No")
It ain't done 'til the punk stops breathin'

Watch Kunta Kinte get even
It goes like that when a brother stays strapped
Couldn't get a job so I learned to rap
Livin' kinda large and the skinheads hate me
Run up in my house and they tried to take me

Now I got the metal to his dome
A desert eagle, dipped in chrome
I got a black stocking cap yanked over my face
Anger is takin' rationality's place

Hitler's in the house and I'm takin' him out
He shouts but the barrel's in his mouth
Before I shoot, he wants to know if I'm white or black
I yank my mask, this has been a jack back

"These boys were trained activists"

I'm not a slave but the Ku Klux Klan
And the Aryan Nation say I am
What's behind the skinheads out to getcha?
The reincarnation of Hitler

Now, I got a murderous attitude
I'm in a put 'em in a casket mood
Remember the days of slavery?
They hung many black men from a tree

We fought to be free real hard
And the black man's freedom must not be scarred
Callin' me an African Sambo
But after this, "American Psycho"

And I'll smoke any skinhead racist
With the black Glock that's in my fist
And the morgue'll be packed in body stacks
Memories due to the jack back

Caught the leader of the skinhead clan
You know the one with the spray paint can
Drilled him with a crowbar die
In the left ear, out the right eye

Then I took a knife to his chest
Carved a wicked message in a bloody mess
It was a warning for the rest of his pack
"This nigga got him with a jackback"

Lyrics provided by LyricsEver.com
Born Anthony Ray in Seattle on August 12, 1963, Sir Mix-a-Lot is a Grammy Award winning rap artist known as a champion of north-west-coast hip hop and for his mainstream break-out in the early 90s. Where there was previously no scene, he helped create it with fun, bass heavy tracks relying on booty shakin' just as much as a playful sense of humor. His first album, 'Swass', featured him humping the Space Needle to show his commitment to the Seattle scene and went platinum. After hooking up with producer extraordinaire Rick Rubin, Mix-a-Lot hyped a new, in-your-face image culminating in the booty shakin' anthem "Baby Got Back", a groovy cut about thick booty that topped the Billboard Hot 100 chart and signaled the high point of his career.

The track, which earned him a Grammy Award, has continued to be a success, with VH1's '100 Greatest Songs of Hip Hop' including it in 2008. As trends in gangsta rap and other shifts of hip-hop culture took place, Mix-A-Lot kept on releasing tracks to a cult fanbase before going more into production and studio work. Other notable fan favorites include "Posse on Broadway" (rapping about a street in Seattle, discussing local landmarks, with success that proved his first hit with some MTV airplay), "Testerossa" (a comparison of his lyrical power to the cars' horsepower), and "Swap meet Louie" (a comical look at counterfeit goods such as Louis Vuitton items being sold at swap meets and night markets). His infamous food-based parody tune "Buttermilk Biscuits" (also known as "Buttermilk Biscuits (Keep on Square Dancin')") was performed by kids on the new 'Mickey Mouse Club' program and earned comparisons to "Weird Al" Yankovic.

Mix-A-lot created his own label and worked his songs from the ground up. He never achieved the same popularity as his heyday again, but his songs remain fun and bring his fans back to the late 80s and early 90s with beat-boxing and old-school scratching. See: http://sirmixalot.com/ Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.

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