Indians lyrics

You know who I feel real bad for is Indians. Everybody feels bad for the Indians. They get dogged openly, because everybody thinks they're dead. These motherf*ckers are not all dead, alright?! I’ve seen, with my own eyes, I've seen a gathering of 1,500 Native Americans. They were all gathered in one place.

The place is called Wal-Mart in New Mexico.

There was Indians everwhere. I'd never seen Indians before! I wasn’t even sure if they were Indians... It was f*cked up, but I asked one of them. It's not nice, but... I seen them in the sports section, looking at bows and arrows; I had to say SOMETHING.

“Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude, um... are you an Indian?”

And he was cool.

“Yes. Yes, I am Indian.”

– I still didn't believe him. I had to test him and be sure. This is f*cked up. But I had a gum wrapper in my pocket. So, I balled that sh*t up and I threw it on the floor. And... a single tear came out his eye! I said, “Oh, sh*t! I have so many questions."

I said, “What tribe are you from?”

“I am a Navajo.”

I said, “Word? I studied you in Social Studies. You're a hunter-gatherer, correct?”

He said, “I guess so, if that's what you wish to call it.”

I said, “Why, what do you call it?”

He said, “I am... an alcoholic.”

I said, “Well, what's your name, dawg?”

He said, “Please, Dog is my cousin. That's a good guess. My name is Running Coyote. What is your name, friend?”

And that sh*t caught me off guard. I didn’t want to say my name was *Dave* to a motherf*cker named Running Coyote. It just don’t feel good enough. He's putting me on the spot.

I said, “Huh, My name? What?! Oh, my name’s Black Feet.”

Then I changed the subject, “Forget about me. What's going on with you? I want to meet your chief. Why don't me, you, and your Chief, and your friends get together tonight? We could have a real-life peace pipe-smoking ritual; We need to celebrate n*gga, 'cause I thought you were DEAD.”

And he set it up! It was beautiful. Oh, It was just like I dreamed... We was all sitting around. The Indians was beating the drum.
(tribal drum beat)

Some other Indians came out the back with a long blanket that was folded in half and put in front of us.

(tribal drum beat)

Opened that sh*t up, and on the blanket was a long wooden pipe with feathers... and bags of weed were *all over* the blanket. The chief walked over.

(tribal drum beat)

"The big ones are 50. The little ones are 25 and these are 10.”

Maaaan, those Indians got HIGH as sh*t. I was baked. I told the chief! He was talking, I cut him off.

“Time out, Chief. Sorry to interrupt. I’m f*cking *smashed*, man. The weed is... too strong! You *sure* this isn't PCP?! The spirits have got me! Chief, the SPIRITS have GOT ME!” And the Chief threw some water in my face.

“Calm down, Blackface.” Splash.

I said, “Hey, it's Black *Feet*, motherf*cker. Take it easy!”

“Black Feet, you are welcome to stay amongst me and my tribe for the night, *until* the spirits leave you.”

And they gave me my own teepee to sleep in, which *sounds* nice. I personally felt like I was 'a little' f*cked up. You know, because they all had *houses*, man. It's like, why can't I sleep with you all in the house and watch TV? Like, I can't be on this grass all night. The Indians is rude, man.

Everybody's rude, the Indians, they're eating nasty food, all they ate was corn and sh*t.
Doritos, I think they called it.