| Ghost
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| Ghost
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| Ghost
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| We are passengers
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| We are drivers
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| We are travelers
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| We are survivors
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| We are hunters
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| We are judges
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| Administer justice swift without grudges
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| Don’t you know you’ve seen a ghost?
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| 'Cause were supposed to be nobody
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| No relief, undercover, canopies we go beneath
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| Okeley-dokeley, shipping coca leaf overseas
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| Isn’t supposed to be so easy
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| So, we’re blowing the boat into pieces, Jesus
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| A landslides just enough pebbles to ruffle feathers
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| I stand by as the dust settles
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| A gunmetal nettle in a meadow full of buttercups
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| A shark fin cutting through a slew of rubber ducks
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| Pull up in a grubby truck, covered in mud and muck
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| The stuff is shut up in a wooden hut
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| Motherfuck it up
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| A sudden rush of blood, a warm buzz, a blush
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| Rubbing a sore, bloody raw with a scrubbing brush
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| Hush! |
| Even if we must stand here for hours
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| A rush and a push
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| And the land that we stand on is ours
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| The Santa Blanca Gang’s a contraband extravaganza
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| We deliver packets to the planet like a phantom Santa
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| Stuffing our pockets with narcotics
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| You can’t stop it, far from it
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| The harder you try; |
| the larger is our profit
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| Our wallets are swollen up from the hard product
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| Bars solid, this is real crack music, harmonic
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| We are passengers
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| We are drivers
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| We are travelers
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| We are survivors
|
| We are hunters
|
| We are judges
|
| Administer justice swift without grudges
|
| Freezing or blazing, all seems to be the same up in here
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| We’re all-terrain warriors razing reigns in Bolivia
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| Heartfelt alarm bells ring heavier than bar bells
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| Money m-m-multiplying like a fertilized cell
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| Cartel giving a hard sell to clientele
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| No, «Voulez-vous de la cocaine
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| S’il vous plait, madamoiselle?»
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| This is life or death, we do not require a locked cell
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| No one else is qualified, we’re dealing with it ourselves
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| Dark realms, doubts, you can’t help the cards dealt
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| But if you’ve a large mouth, you’re in the dog house
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| I’ve witnessed horrors upon the likes of which I shan’t dwell
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| But hang around and you might well find out
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| The Wildlands is no climate for a mild man
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| But my old man said I should climb up as high as I can
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| You better be nice
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| Every time when we’re behind enemy lines
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| 'Cause otherwise it’ll be like the time when Kennedy died
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| Sniping time, deadly as cyanide
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| Your head in the firing line
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| Violent, dynamite your mind
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| You’re dead as a trilobite
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| And by the by, I’m flying by to foil your vile plans
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| So, try your hand, I am the Trial of the Wildlands
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| We are passengers
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| We are drivers
|
| We are travelers
|
| We are survivors
|
| We are hunters
|
| We are judges
|
| Administer justice swift without grudges
|
| We are passengers
|
| We are drivers
|
| We are travelers
|
| We are survivors
|
| We are hunters
|
| We are judges
|
| Administer justice swift without grudges
|
| Ghost
|
| Ghost
|
| Ghost
|
| Ghost |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wildlands , by - Dan Bull. Song from the album Generation Gaming XI, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп