Lyrics Land of the Gun - Breez Evahflowin, Immortal Technique

Land of the Gun

: Nigga, you’re not the sheriff no more.
We got a new sheriff in town.
Big Brother here, Big Brother’s the sheriff now, nigga
: You ain’t the sheriff here no more, nigga.
We’re taking the law back
: That’s what he said
James Nichols: «Some people, «law enforcement,» if you want to call ‘em that
were here and they were shaking in their shoes.
They were physically shaking,
scared to death.
Because certain people said, «I'm a radical, I’m a wild man.
You say anything, I’ll shoot ya.
If the people find out how they’ve been
ripped off and, and enslaved in this country by the government, by the powers
to be, they will revolt with anger.
Merciless anger.
There’ll be blood running
in the street.»
Word to Melle Mel, Master
Yo
Ticket to ride the white crime highway
Bring all the guns, the funds will come my way
Whether we’re delivering high grade to the people in the
Pit of the tri-state, or dabble in the middle like
Fly weights, lock and load in the range of what
Rock the globe.
Made any aim poss-
-ible ‘til the lead belly lost control
In the hold of the paper that fold.
At one time, was
Related to gold, made many men lose their
Soul to the price of the dice that roll
How can a light so bright make a man so cold?
So another man’s plans unfold.
Can you really see it
True ‘til it happens to you?
It’s so
Severe what the hopeless will do
Uh huh.
Yo
Ain’t no
Picking your position to begin in your life.
Not every
Man wanna stand by his kids and his wife.
Too many
Lost kids in the night, hand on heat, gripping
It tight.
Any man want beef could
Get it right followed by enough flame to put
A permanent end to the learning of men
Class session: to many
The blast the last lesson often taught
Like the wars that are often fought.
As old as
Mankind.
Now out of his damn mind
Stand on the gunpowder landmine, ready to
Blow at any second.
I’m checking for the
Signs of the end of all time.
I figure it’s
On time.
My last thoughts forming the rhyme
Got me running through the
Streets that reek of the dead.
It’s more food to
The well-fed.
My niggas on welfare
Nobody giving up healthcare.
Nothing but
Heat—how you gonna tell me it ain’t Hell here?
George Bush having a swell year, swinging the
Gat, ready to clap anything on the map.
You done
Seen what they bring to Iraq.
Now bring it back to the
Source, land of the physical force, land of the
Gun, land of the
Gun, land of the
Gun, land of the
Gun
Yeah, all my people out there, lock and load
This is
The place where cops are rushing the building
Paramilitary death squads murder your children
Empty shell of a man licking shots in the air
Soldiers dying out there, but nobody cares
Prepare for the future, but make note of the past
Or be condemned to live it again and get blast
Class warfare kept out of the news, replaced
By a corporation’s political views ‘cause this is
Where the guns are manufactured and sold, the land
That was stolen, stripped of all of its gold
Old-timers on their deathbed, speaking the wisdom
Immigrants crucified by conservative Christians
And we all got freedom to die in the street, but the
Difference is more of us die in a week than they
Die in a year.
I made it clear where I stand when the
Line is drawn, but now the line is gone.
And, nigga
Anything goes.
The land where the guns don’t let
Anything grow.
And what the fuck you niggas know about
Living in Hell?
You’re not built like me.
You never
Lived in a cell.
You never gambled with your soul.
Fuck
The ice in your hand.
Gun in your palm, but you got a nigga’s
Life in your hand.
Young man, just remember that
Slicing a gram is a bloody game like throwing
Mice in a fan.
My words flow like the rivers that’s
West of Iran.
The fertile crescent moon with the
Star in the middle.
I’ll reveal the depth of history’s
Scars when I scribble.
I gave you the world and I ain’t even
Charge you a little.
The martyr is crippled, the pro-
-phets are dead and buried, but the message is simple
And it’s not written down in holy books as a riddle
Now we running through the streets, starving, on that
Guerilla warfare.
My people stuck in a
Guerilla warfare.
Innocent children
Screaming in tears.
You acting like the army
Ain’t brought hell here.
Military industry
Having a swell year, swinging a gat
Or lying in heaven, living off a blank check after
9/11, but I’ma have the truth brought
Back to the source, fight for my land with
Physical force, speak through music
The subliminal course.
I need a TEC and a clip
Fuck a chain or Porsche.
Land of
The gun, land of
The gun, land of
The gun, land of
The gun
Yeah.
Yeah.
Immortal Technique, Breez Evahflowin', Harlem.
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