'Twas the night before Kwanzaa, and all through the slum, Not a creature was stirring, not even a bum. The children had braided their cornrows with care, In the hope that Saint Malcolm would soon be there.
The Crips and the Bloods made their holiday peace; The protesters protested: "Fuck tha' police!" The Jews and Koreans hid under their beds, While visions of rioters danced in their heads.
In a crackhouse, some pipeheads were lighting a rock, When all of a sudden there came a loud knock. And what to their wondering eyes did appear, But Los Angeles Sheriffs in full riot gear!
Boards fell from the doorway and crashed to the floor, And landed in front of a twelve year old whore. The cops went to work with their nightsticks in hand, Swinging at skulls as the Africans ran.
A beating ensued as they tried to escape, But nobody got it on videotape. A loud cry was heard as they managed to flee: "Merry Christmas, you punks, from the L.A.S.D.!"
