PIONEER CHICKEN: BUCKETS OF PEACE

[INTRO — DJ SCRATCHES, SIRENS, FUNKY BASS] Yo, yo, yo! South Central, L.A., 1988! Two rival crews, one neighborhood, Two bad attitudes, and one bucket of food! Pioneer Chicken on the corner, Everybody's looking mean, But tonight we're settling beef With the crispiest peace treaty ever seen! Yo, pass me that biscuit! [VERSE 1 — GRITTY, RHYTHMIC STORYTELLING] Cruisin' down the block where the streetlights glow, Two rival crews got a score to throw. Blue bandanas, red rags flying, Everybody talking tough, everybody eyeing. Pulled up hard by the Pioneer sign, Everybody acting like the whole world's mine. Engines cut off, now the silence gets thick, Till somebody yells, "Man, I'm hungry as a tick!" One dude said, "Yo, let's settle this right. Ain't nobody gotta spend another night in a fight. We got bigger problems than the colors we wear, Like who ate the last wing? Yo, that ain't fair!" The manager stepped out, said, "I got one rule: You bring that beef in here, you're buying extra food. No trouble, no drama, no mess on my floor. And whoever takes the last thigh better order some more!" [PRE-CHORUS — FUNKY BASS BREAK] One bucket on the table, everybody stand back, A dozen pieces of chicken in a grease-stained sack. One brother grabbed a drumstick, another took a bite, And the whole damn neighborhood started feeling all right! [CHORUS — BIG CROWD CHANTS, SCRATCHES, P-FUNK HORNS] Fuck Jungle Chicken in the Valley, Pioneer ain't no menace to society! Yo! Somebody tell those folks at the Academy Museum in Beverly Hills, The boys in the hood are always hard— Like balls-hard rooster in the yard! Buckets up! Let the peace flag fly! Trade that angry stare for a piece of pie! Lay down your weapons, pick up biscuits instead, Put some gravy on the table, let the hate go dead! P-I-O-N-E-E-R! Fried chicken bringing all the homies near! From the curb to the crib, let the whole world see: One bucket, two crews, and a South Central peace treaty! [VERSE 2 — TALKING RAP, COMIC STORYTELLING] Now the OG stepped up, said, "Listen, young blood, We been wasting too much time acting mean in the mud. We been painting up walls like the world's gonna end, But I just found out this dude's my cousin's best friend!" One brother dropped his piece with a clatter on the ground, Picked up a fluffy biscuit, passed the gravy around. Another laid his hardware on the hood of a car, Said, "Forget that old nonsense—where the coleslaw are?" They took down the graffiti, got a bucket and a brush, Wiped the walls clean while the whole block rushed. No more gang tags, no more threats in the night, Just a mural of a rainbow with a chicken taking flight! They mashed all the hatred into potatoes and gravy, Even the hardest dude said, "Man, this stuff is crazy!" He took one spoonful, tears rolled down his face: "All these years of beef, and I just needed a plate!" [CHORUS — FULL CREW, CALL AND RESPONSE] Fuck Jungle Chicken in the Valley, Pioneer ain't no menace to society! Yo! Somebody tell those folks at the Academy Museum in Beverly Hills, The boys in the hood are always hard— Like balls-hard rooster in the yard! Buckets up! Let the peace flag fly! Trade that angry stare for a piece of pie! Lay down your weapons, pick up biscuits instead, Put some gravy on the table, let the hate go dead! P-I-O-N-E-E-R! Fried chicken bringing all the homies near! From the curb to the crib, let the whole world see: One bucket, two crews, and a South Central peace treaty! [VERSE 3 — FASTER FLOW, COMEDIC BUILD] Now the peace deal's signed on a napkin in grease, Article One: Everybody gets peace. Article Two: No fighting over neighborhood turf. Article Three: Extra gravy for whatever it's worth. Article Four: No more tagging up the wall, Paint a rainbow chicken ten feet tall! Article Five: If you feel that old anger ignite, Get a biscuit, take a breath, and pass the coleslaw right! The homies started dancing, doing moves in the street, Somebody brought a boombox with a thumping backbeat. The toughest dude alive got a tear in his eye, When the last little chicken wing went flying by. He said, "That's my wing!" — everybody froze. The DJ scratched twice, then the peace deal arose. The rival crew split it, every brother got a taste, 'Cause a war over a wing is a terrible waste! [BREAKDOWN — SPOKEN WORD OVER BASS AND DRUM MACHINE] Hold up! Hold up! We got no more beef? We got no more hate? We got mashed potatoes And a family-size plate? Yo, pass the biscuits to the left! Pass the gravy to the right! If the chicken can bring peace, We can make it through the night! And somebody get that rooster out the yard— That little feathered gangster's been acting too hard! [FINAL CHORUS — BIG CHOIR, CROWD SHOUTS, FUNK HORNS] Fuck Jungle Chicken in the Valley, Pioneer ain't no menace to society! Yo! Somebody tell those folks at the Academy Museum in Beverly Hills, The boys in the hood are always hard— Like balls-hard rooster in the yard! Buckets up! Let the peace flag fly! No more beef, let the