[Part I: Pigs]

[Intro: The Watts Prophets & Guilty Simpson]
"Yet look around, ain't nothin’ change
(Nothing's changed! Not a damn thang!)
I'm sho’ hope somebody's listening to what I'm sayin'
'Cause it sho' looks to me like dem' niggers ain't playing"
(Pig!)

[Verse 1: Guilty Simpson]
Yo, look at your room—it’s a mess
And you tell me, that I can’t wear a vest?
Why? You got one
Beating brothers in the chest with a shotgun
In my pocket asking where I got my knot from, I got a job
Like everybody with black faces gotta rob
Oh, you want my ID? It's not a prob
What’s two or three cars for I'm not the mob
Uh-uh, I'm just a young rap artist
Do the shit you probably refer to as '’that garbage''
Which probably makes me a black target
That's why I don't love you, whole or half-hearted
A lot of police should feel like a thug
When I see the boys in blue, I feel like a blood
But I ain't gang related
Sketch you in court when you change your statement
[Interlude: Guilty Simpson]
Pig!

[Verse 2: Guilty Simpson]
Mr. Officer, please don't shoot
Show a little love to the young black youth
You plant drugs on us, stamp "thugs" on us
Put us in cuffs, shipped on a bus
To a cell that's equivalent to Hell on Earth
So the rats don't care, who they tell on first
The greeks don't care if you innocent
Put a lighter in the air if you feelin' it

[Outro: Guilty Simpson]
Pig!
Pig!
Pig!
Pig! Pig!

[Part II]

[Guilty Simpson]
Come on
You, n***as, better stack that [?]
Time's up, you couldn't fool the people forever
You better
Yeah
My n***a
Yeah
When you wake up, I'm right there