Hello, hello, hello (ha, ha, ha) You never listen to a word that I said You only seen me For the clothes that I wear Or did the interest go so much deeper It must have been The colour of my hair The Public Image What you wanted was never made clear Behind the image was ignorance and fear You hide behind this public machine Still follow same old scheme Public Image Two sides to every story Somebody had to stop me I'm not the same as when I began I will not be treated as property Public Image Two sides to every story Somebody had to stop me I'm not the same as when I began It's not a game of monopoly Public image Public image You got what you wanted The public image belongs to me It's my entrance My own creation My grand finale My goodbye Public image Goodbye

Yo Chuck, bust the move, man I was on my way up here to the studio, ya know what I'm sayin'? And this brother stop me and axe me "Yo, wassup with that brother Chuckie D, he swear he nice" I said, "Yo, the brother don't swear he's nice, he knows he's nice" Ya know what I'm sayin'? So Chuck, we gotta fill in, you turn him into a Public Enemy, man Now remember that line you was kicking to me On the way out to L.A. While we was in the car on our way to the Shot Well yo, right now kick the bass for them brothers And let them know what goes on What goes on? Well, I'm all in, put it up on the board Another rapper shot down from the mouth that roared 1, 2, 3 down for the count, the result of my lyrics, oh yes, no doubt Cold rock rap, 49er supreme Is what I choose and I use, I never lose to a team 'Cause I can can go solo like a Tyson bolo Make the fly girls wanna have my photo Run in their room, hang it on the wall In remembrance that I rocked them all Suckers, ducks, ho-hum MC's You can't rock the kid, so go, cut the cheese Take this application of rhymes like these My rap's red hot, 110 degrees So don't start bassin', I'll start placin' Bets on that you'll be disgracing You and your mind from a beatin' from my rhymes A time for a crime that I can't find I'll show you my gun, my Uzi weighs a ton Because I'm Public Enemy number one One, one, one One, one, one, one You got no rap but you want to battle It's like havin' a boat but you got no paddle 'Cause I never pause, I say it because I don't break in stores but I break all laws Written while sittin', all fittin' not bitten Givin' me the juice that your not gettin' I'm not a law obeyer, so you can tell your mayor I'm a non-stop rhythm rock poetry sayer I'm the rhyme player, the ozone layer A battle what, here's a Bible, start your prayer This word to the wise is justified If they ask you what happened, just admit you lied You just got caught a for going out of order And now you're servin' football teams their water You messed with the master, word to Chuck And I'll wax cold tax, made sure you got dunked You just got dissed, all but dismissed Sucker duck MC's, you get me pissed It's no fun being on the run Because they got me, Public Enemy number one One, one, one One, one, one Don't you know? Don't you know? I got a posse of a force to back me up Watch out, we got never the match Ambush attack on my back, doubleteamin' get creamed So we have us, so you are okay Wanna hear it again, we got the force, enemy down The L.I. circuit sound Ain't it Chuckie D, myself and KG, Flavor, DJ Melody Oh yes, I presume it's the tunes that make us groom To make all the ladies swoon But it's also the words from Our Direction, a gold boy session Kickin' like a Bruce Lee's Chinese connection On stereo, never ever MIND, no, all wax, yes I'm talkin' about vinyl They said, "Stop freeze," I got froze up Because I'm Public Enemy number one One, one, one One, one, one One, one, one For all you suckers, liars, your cheap amplifiers You crossed up wires are always starting fires You grown up criers, now here's a pair of pliers Get a job like your mother, I heard she fixes old dryers You have no desires, your father fixes tires You try to sell ya equipment but you get no buyers It's you they never hire, you're never on flyers 'Cause you and your crew is only known as good triers Known as the poetic political lyrical son I'm Public Enemy number one One, one, one One, one, one One, one, one Yeah, that's right Chuck man That's what you gotta do You gotta tell them just like that Ya know what I'm sayin'? 'Cause yo man, let me tell you a little somethin', man These brothers runnin' around, hard headed Makin' a little jealous, ya know what I'm sayin'? Just like that, ya know, they try to bring you down with 'em But yo Chuck, you gotta let 'em know Who's who in the world of beat You gotta let 'em know that this is the 80's And we can get all the ladies And in the backyard we got a fly Mercedes And that's the way the story goes That's just the way the story goes Let me tell you a little somethin', man

(The Crimson Chin) Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy Ayy, ayy, ayy I don't give a fuck about what you're reckoning .44 pistol whip his mouth, quit your meddling Knock him out, leave him on the ground pickin' up his teeth Sex, drugs, and violence what I'm 'bout, public enemy No, I don't think he wanna die, die, die, die, die I don't think he wanna die, die, die, die, die I don't think he wanna die, die, die, die, die I don't think he wanna die, die, die, die, die Can't get a motherfuckin' grip, I'm slipping I do not wanna coexist, you pipsqueaks I put your face into my fist, you best be Heavy artillery equipped to test me So many things I can't let go Of what's been done to me, I can't let go Of what's been done so I let all this hate build up inside me I don't give a fuck about what you're reckoning .44 pistol whip his mouth, quit your meddling Knock him out, leave him on the ground pickin' up his teeth Sex, drugs, and violence what I'm 'bout, public enemy No, I don't think he want to die, die, die, die, die I don't think he want to die, die, die, die, die I don't think he want to die, die, die, die, die I don't think he want to die, die, die, die, die No, I don't think he want to die, die, die, die, die No, I don't think he wanna die, no, I don't think he wanna die I don't think he wanna die, the politician in a suit I don't think he wanna die, the policeman that's why he shoot In an alley getting high off something scheduled, one or two I don't think you wanna die, so why are you saying that you do? Legalized suicide, flip the script And I'm surprised you're alive, the pictures kicking It's fucked that you and I share oxygen I will survive, the public is not my friend Uh, you need a passport to leave the country If I say too much, they will hunt me Pop, pop, pop, goes the rifle With Uncle Sam, do not trifle With time has died the true rebel spirit There is no one left Only cowards, nope, no one left We don't give a F -Uck About what you're reckoning .44 pistol whip his mouth, quit your meddling Knock him out, leave him on the ground pickin' up his teeth Sex, drugs, and violence what I'm 'bout, public enemy No, I don't think he wanna, die, die, die, die I don't think he wanna, die, die, die, die I don't think he wanna, die, die, die, die I don't think he wanna, die, die, die, die No, I don't think he wanna die, die, die, die, die No, I don't think he wanna die, no, I don't think he wanna Die D-D-D-D-, D-D-D-D-, D-D-D-D-Die D-D-D-D-, D-D-D-D-, D-D-D-D-Die Hey could you—, could you do me a favor and get your mouth off my di—

Îi zic: Să treacă la treabă, nu îmi place vorba Am sangele fierbinte, fără Ginkgo Biloba Bea gin c-o fi lova', merge-n lex sau in rova' Poartă la mână Rolex, are fină stofa O arde mafioso, gen clanul Gambino Merge doar cu limo' şi consumă amino E tăcut, te arde gen Deşert Kalahari Hua, ce barbăt, ce desert... vino, mami! Spune-mi ce nu-ţi place, spune-mi ce nu merge Şase zero RON / G, fata te drege Zici că dansează chiar şi atunci când merge Merge des în Mercedes c-are talent de rege E baiat de bani gata Pe fete le dă gata, gata E baiat de bani gata Kalashnikov, mitraliera, ratatatatata E baiat de bani gata Pe fete le dă gata, gata E baiat de bani gata Kalashnikov, mitraliera, ratatatatata Kalashnikov, mitraliera, ratatatatata Kalashnikov, mitraliera, ratatatatata Caraibe, Bora Bora, Paris sau Manila Baiatu' e luv deala' o arde fo' reala' Nu se bate cu pumnu-n piept ca gorila Tace, le face, ne place, e un lady killa' Ucigas, ma-ma-mare pungas, Atitudine şi stil... Oh, My Gosh! Opriţi-l careva că ne omoară pe toate Ne mişcăm în jurul lui ca balerinele pe poante E baiat de bani gata Pe fete le dă gata, gata E baiat de bani gata