Lyrics Warmachines - Billy Woods

Warmachines

Missiles, close enough to see model and make
Haters gon' hate
Watch my city like The Blind Sheikh
Handle snakes at the wake
You can tell he went to hell, just look at his face
Looking like the one that got away
Survivor’s guilt like runaway slave
Dad’s coffin in the house for two days
Lenin lying in state
Grab the gats, had a fucking parade
Ticker tape on the graves
Smoke like grease fire
For a pittance, the guns was hired
Good riddance
Road block of burning tires, the plot thickens
Delivered to hissing mob, appeal to distant God
The sun flatten hard
Captain Queeg Caine mutinous
Black rain luminous, exhale sour cumulus
Clench teeth, hold cigars, freshly rolled
Stories told, lies all
Cold, call, collect
Silent auction
His soul went unsold
Not for lack of trying
High horse rode hard, metalless iron
Precious as blood from tyrants, built to spill
Instill men with the will to kill
Your last meal served cold, now it’s really real
Mountain ranges capped with snow, at times, Guantanamo slow
Mud hamlets in the valley bellow
Dirt stones, boney goats, at night the whisper of ghosts
Satellite phones, whirring drones
My nigga, grip the toast
Put 'em in the pit then we watch the fucking pendulum (x8)