A History of Rap Songs Protesting Police Brutality

“I guess cuz I'm black born, I'm supposed to say peace, sing songs, and get capped on.”

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Complex Original

Image via Complex Original

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You’ll have noticed, perhaps, that in the past week, we’ve been reporting from Ferguson, Mo., where an unarmed black resident, Michael Brown, 18, was gunned down by local police officer Darren Wilson last week, sparking days (and nights) of protest after police left Brown dead in the street for several hours following the shooting. Beyond Ferguson, the ongoing clashes between local protesters and the brutal, commando-style police have captivated a nation, inspiring equal parts sympathy and rage. It's been a rough couple of weeks in America.

While the murder of Michael Brown hasn’t yet touched hip-hop’s conscience with the same immediacy and force as the Rodney King beating in 1991, rappers are gradually speaking out in remembrance of Michael Brown. J. Cole released a protest song, “Be Free,” last Friday, and this past weekend he met with daytime crowds in Ferguson to encourage Missouri’s youth in revolt.

Despite idealistic theorizing of a post-racial America ever since President Obama’s election in 2008, black Americans in cities and towns live in general fear (at best, skepticism) of the police. Hip-hop, since its improvised inception, has always sucked its teeth and had a few choice words for the police, such that hip-hop’s most definitive cultural penetration has often come in the form of a threat, an arrest, a trial, or some broader call to protest. From the revolutionary anthems of KRS-One, Public Enemy, and 2Pac, to the wry warnings of Main Source, LL Cool J, and T.I., to straight-up death threats from N.W.A and Killer Mike, we present a history of rappers versus police brutality. A proud, rebellious history, indeed.

Written by Justin Charity (@BrotherNumpsa), Angel Diaz (@ADiaz456), & David Drake (@somanyshrimp).

N.W.A "Fuck tha Police" (1988)

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The pioneers of this gangsta shit. During the late '80s L.A. gangs and the police force were in a constant struggle. Decked out in all black, N.W.A were sort of the Black Panthers of hip-hop. They did more than glorify street life; they represented a people who were willing to fight back and say what was on their minds. Upon the release of "Fuck tha Police," the song immediately caused controversy because of the suggestive lyrics. Murdering police shouldn't be condoned, but neither should the use of excessive force. —Angel Diaz

Ice Cube f/ Chuck D "Endangered Species" (1990)

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When Ice Cube went to the Bomb Squad for his second album, the energy and focus of his N.W.A days weren't impacted, and he made sure you knew it—"I told you last album/When I get a sawed off, bodies are hauled off." After an intro by a news team explaining that black men are being added to the endangered species list, Ice Cube barrels onto the track with words that feel as terrifyingly resonant today as the day they were written: "How the fuck do you figure?/That I can say peace and the gunshots will cease/Every cop killer goes ignored/They just send another nigger to the morgue." The second verse shifts from the police to a revenge fantasy after the loss of his friend over a ki of cocaine: "It's a shame that niggas die young/But to the light side, it don't matter none." Chuck D closes out the record with a burst of black pride, a refusal to be denied even when hunted: "Yet Cube, they can't fuck with the dark side." —David Drake

Main Source "Just a Friendly Game of Baseball" (1991)

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One of the most disheartening aspects of the killing of Mike Brown has been how little has changed over the past few decades: There may be no Sal's Famous in Ferguson, Mo., but the dynamic Spike Lee captured in Do the Right Thing remains unaffected by the geographic shift or passage of time. Main Source's "Just a Friendly Game of Baseball" treats America's pastime as a deeply ironic metaphor for America's other pastime—where one side is always playing defense.

As the images of Ferguson flashed across our television sets, the scratched Melvin Van Peebles sample—"This ain't America, is it? Where can I be?"—seemed like a natural soundtrack. With the sizzling ride cymbal of Lou Donaldson's "Pot Belly" as a dry canvas, Large Professor's voice drips with acid, drawing a portrait of a rigged game that could easily serve as a tragic script for the current moment: "Television ain't designed for precision, y'all." "No questions, just pulls out the flamer/And the excuses get lamer." "They shot him in the face saying he was trying to steal a base." —David Drake

KRS-One "Sound of da Police" (1993)

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The hook is iconic, various lines have been sampled, and KRS-One floats in a patois accent. The beat and lyrics embody early '90s hip-hop, and this song became a rallying cry in ghettoes across the country. Always one to drop knowledge, rap's professor emeritus breaks down all the things the Overseer can do and get away with. When you hear that sound, watch out for the beast. —Angel Diaz

2Pac "Holler if Ya Hear Me" (1993)

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By '93, year of Doggystyle, the West Coast had snatched New York’s mic, and everything sounded like Snoop, Cube, and Dre. And despite 2Pac's eventually linking with Dr. Dre, you can tell he preferred Cube: “I guess 'cause I'm black born/I'm supposed to say peace, sing songs, and get capped on.” Such is the gist of so many of 2Pac's most explicitly revolutionary themes, but "Holler If Ya Hear Me" is the earliest mature sign of 2Pac's revolutionary potential, even if, at that point, said potential was so audibly derivative of Public Enemy. 

2Pac was a born instigator, ever since his 1991 debut, 2Pacalypse Now; second single “Trapped" and opening track “Young Black Male” are similarly cagey, if quaint. On all subsequent albums, 2Pac's message was more complex, his melodies more complete, his ethos irresistible. Another villain in fatigues, hands over his head, shouting, "Don't shoot!" —Justin Charity

UGK "Protect and Serve" (1994)

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"The policemen are your friends, they're here to protect and serve." In the wake of the Rodney King beating, only one form of popular culture seemed actively interested in expressing the point of view of those who'd been consistently victimized by law enforcement. UGK's "Protect and Serve" was one of the more biting examples of rap music as an outlet, its chorus a sarcastic sing-song about the policemen's mission, contrasted directly with lyrics that fantasized about torturing police. Bun B promises to "bust that nigga to his knees/And watch him squirm and squeal as I buck him there," but Pimp C one-ups him by threatening to shoot up a cop's funeral after killing him, because "Fuck respect for the muthafucking dead," and ends his verse sodomizing an officer with his own baton.

The verse, though, was censored in a few places, even on the explicit version; it sounded as if a specific officer's name might have been removed from all pressings. Perhaps it was Jive's response to Mac Dre's "Punk Police" from two years earlier, which specifically called out Detective McGraw, who had been working on a bank robbery case in Vallejo. Within a few weeks of the song's release, Mac Dre was arrested for "conspiracy to commit bank robbery." —David Drake

C-Bo "Deadly Game" (1998)

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C-Bo's "Deadly Game" had real-world consequences. The Sacramento gangster rapper had been sentenced to two years after firing a shot in the air among gang members during a fight in which one person was killed. He was paroled in '97, on the condition that his lyrics would no longer be "anti-law enforcement" or "promote a gang lifestyle." His next album did both of those things, particularly "Deadly Game," which channels Main Source's "Friendly Game of Baseball." It also attacked California's three strikes law, governor Pete Wilson, and includes a chorus threatening to 187 the DA and the entire courtroom. His PO dinged him for violating his probation, but the state stumbled when C-Bo's case became a cause for first amendment activists. He was ultimately freed. —David Drake

Mos Def "Mr. Nigga" (1999)

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Rap can’t always be slow-singing and flower-bringing. Like LL Cool J ("Illegal Search") and Eazy-E (literally every Eazy-E verse that isn't about intercourse) before him, Mos Def keeps it cheeky with "Mr. Nigga," a rather sunny Q-Tip production in which Yasiin recounts various slights from white folk, most notably the highway patrol: "Two assistants, two bank accounts, two homes/One problem: Even with the Os on his check/The po-po stop him and show no respect." It's spiteful, it's charming, and it goes to show that white America's latent fear of blacks is hardly unique to police; the titular Mr. Nigga gets no respect from white women assigned to Delta aisle seats, either. “Say they want you successful, but that ain’t the case/You living large? Your skin is dark? They shine a light in your face.” —Justin Charity

dead prez "Police State" (2000)

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dead prez is missed during times like this. "Police State" is definitely conspiracy heavy, but make no mistake: We are living in a Police State, and no one is doing anything about it. The NYPD, Ferguson PD, LAPD, etc. have military weaponry and aren't afraid to use it on the people they are supposed to protect. The police kill us, get paid leave, and if they're convicted they get a slap on the wrist in comparison to a civilian killing a cop. Hopefully the events that have transpired in Missouri will spark a dialogue on the demilitarization of police forces. —Angel Diaz

T.I. "Doin' My Job" (2003)

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Jay Z's police-evasive "99 Problems" is an '03 anthem, admittedly, but as far as protest sentiment goes, "Doin' My Job" is T.I.'s specific, charismatic appeal to neighbors and patrolmen alike, to not assume that harassment and deadly force is every corner boy's M.O. Which, to be sure, sets this track apart from the higher-minded, unimpeachable perspectives of rappers like KRS-One and LL Cool J, but nonetheless T.I. speaks to a universal human sympathy that, if this world weren't so cruel, would be our decency's default. "You hear us talking loud, just think of us as chameleons/Adapting to situations, but accusations of stealing/And burglarizing your house, I mean, you just hurting my feelings." T.I.'s no angel. Nor is he a bull's-eye. —Justin Charity

Styles P f/ Jae Hood "Fuck the Police" (2008)

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The Ghost went off over a synth beat sprinkled with Richard Pryor commentary to hammer home what it's like to deal with police in the hood. The inclusion of the Pryor comedy set helps bring believability to Styles' verses. Not every cop is bad, but this song is just a glimpse into what people of color in America's ghettoes deal with everyday. They'll buss you in your head and then charge you for getting blood on their uniform. —Angel Diaz

Lil Boosie "Fuck the Police" (2009)

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In press accounts, one song has popped up numerous times in the streets of Ferguson over the past week: Lil Boosie's "Fuck the Police." It's not the first, second, or third rap record to hold that title. But it is one of the most ferocious, Boosie's shredded delivery tearing into his local police force with unmatched directness and rage. "They killed Venelle when I was 12, turned me against them/Sent me to my first funeral, now I'm a victim," the song begins, setting up the context for the rapper's deep antipathy to the law.

That attitude has been implicit in his music for well over a decade; his team has suggested that his music over the years has even led to a police vendetta. But "Fuck the Police" transformed the ever-present mood into its overarching focus, unloading directly into corruption, abuse, the conflict between the system and black individuals, and expressed it as pure, uncut, uncensored energy. —David Drake

Killer Mike "Don't Die" (2012)

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Killer Mike is KRS-One driven to the paranoid extreme, where he's bashing his head against the dam that divides sanity and madness. Amidst the recent resurgence of street rap and first-person nightmares of the darkside, Killer Mike is a veteran’s perspective, illustrating a hustler's PTSD in grotesque, homicidal terms, a wit he's been sharpening since "Shot Down" on 2008's Ghetto Extraordinary. "Don't Die" opens with a bit of beleaguered wit from Dick Gregory, followed by Killer Mike's cackling on "some real bad-guy shit," recounting: “I woke up this morning to a cop and a gun! He told me that they lookin’ for a nigga on the run!”

Yet Killer Mike's father is a retired Atlanta PD, and Mike stresses in the song and in interviews that his ire is reserved for cops who abuse their power and governments that abuse black civilians. Last week, as chaos and tear gas spilled throughout Ferguson, Mo., Killer Mike shared (via Instagram) his heartbreak and hope for a bloodless tomorrow: "I don't care if others rioted or why. I don't care that ballplayers and rappers are what they [should] be. I care that we as humans care as much about one another more." —Justin Charity

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