Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Patriotism, artist - Company Flow.
Date of issue: 31.12.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Patriotism |
Do you know who you are. |
Do you know who you are fucking with? |
Do you know, the access, to weapons, money and power |
That we have? |
We will fucking kill you! |
I’m the ugliest version of passed down toxic capitalist |
Rapid emcee perversion -- I’m America! |
Your bleeding-heart liberal drivel gets squashed |
Wash em with sterilized rhyme patriot-guided weaponry bomb |
From the makers of the devious hearts -- I’m America! |
You bitchy little dogs don’t even phase my basic policy |
The bomb’s smarter, my Ronald Reagan’s crush Carter |
With Bay of Pig tactics makin young men into martyrs |
(Come on down!) Come to my happy promised land |
Smiley faced opportunity cypher |
And jump on the CoFlow pension plan |
A proletariat, crushing State of the Union |
Between serpentine words and mass confusion |
Of media controlled blurb advertising disillusionment |
Your family will love my low-rent, low-life |
No-brain, reality-dagger, MOVEMENT |
Hop over the border for amusement; |
try to test the waters |
That the other slaughter crews pay all they dues in |
You’re up against Jesus freaks, Mormon corporations, and Young Republicans |
Indelible NATO force hidden agenda, puppet governments |
I’m lovin it! |
Keep the people guessin who I’m runnin with |
Control the population and hide behind sacred covenants |
Fuckin with me!!! |
Means liberal wildlife burned in gasoline seas |
And I’m on a magnetic third world planet with metal plates in your knees |
Can’t you hear the disenchanted, hollow scream of |
Gabriel’s reflected new wind instrument, a judgment played in flat C |
I replace humans like robots in a GM factory (warning! warning!) |
Then export metaphors to sweat shops, cause the price is satisfactory |
Your pious little cries of injustice get met with apathy |
(Awww, SHUT UP!!) Soak, cloak, hormone injected dairy product |
And conservative right-wing anti-eroticism |
Resevoirs and power lines in your neighborhood cause botchilism |
SENSELESS! |
Join the census, censorship sentence ascendance |
Triple-felon citizen paid pennance! |
Dissension against C-F ends in, penetentiary residence |
Lock em up first, then ask questions |
Omniscient presence, my CHARM is the weapon |
With cameras mics and satellites that leave privacy breathless |
You don’t even know the chemicals you’ve ingested |
Urine tested -- BEAT INNOCENT MAN 'TIL HE CONFESSES |
«Who's America? |
Who’s America? |
Who’s America? |
Who’s America?» |
«Who's America? |
Who’s America? |
Who’s America? |
Who’s America?» |
I’m America! |
I’m America! |
I’m America! |
Mr. Len, get busy on em! |
I’m America arrogant! |
Terminus verbal curfew murders |
You either purchase my products or you’re worthless, that’s my service! |
Don’t look into the oculars of a daylight saver |
Eraser, city-headed momument defacer comprising of |
Patriot droids, sent into the void with lead linings |
Employed by the bureaucrats of automatic twisted rhyme timing |
You’re guaranteed nothing but my fat little finger |
That lingers one inch off of the big button -- LET’S START THIS! |
I’m Sarin gas, hide in your apartments |
I’m stealth like a robot hidden in the fat asshole of Cartman |
And give a crippling fuck like sand sharkskin condom |
To your apparent vaginal problem — the hottest shit on Soundbombing |
I’m American til infinite justice measure to Pesticide Cemetary |
Invite you to cross the border then SHIT on your divinities |
What language is that? |
I’m angusih in fact, tangle with a |
Star-spangled standard issue gat for crowd management |
Talk loud and get enshrouded in a hot cloud of harassment |
By the crowd force of my mental pedestrian checker |
That smashes subordinate skulls and update the file in your dental records |
You tried to get elected but the crowd is my paid hecklers (BOO! BOO!) |
You just stepped into the spectrum of paranoid word rainbows |
Thinkin you sick with a sihlouette, burn transit cop out his plain clothes |
I’m America! |
This is where the pain grows like poppies |
In a Field of Dreams I paid for, I’ll burn it down if operated sloppily |
COPY? |
My economic sanction rhyme style got your syllables |
Scraping for rice and riding in a pre-1960 jalopy |
My favorite flavour of gas is mustard |
I’m fuckin a blind hermaphrodite icon and convincin you that it’s justice! |
«Who's America? |
Who’s America? |
Who’s America? |
Who’s America?» |
Treason will not be tolerated! |
You have been enlisted. |
into a lifestyle that you may not change! |
Understand! |
You can’t be happy. |
and smile. |
for the cameras! |
MotherFUCKER! |