| We are artists in a time of war
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| This ain’t a song, it’s a call to arms, bring 'em on, knives to firebombs
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| Whatever your firearms
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| I want a million man march, AR15s on shoulders
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| All of my soldiers, power to the people you see
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| Or I could bring my people to the powers
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| Where I could just reach you at home, but I’ll surely not preach you alone
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| I want free-thinking revolutionaries that refuse to bury their rights
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| Due to every government oversight at night
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| Y’all are glued to the tube, eating up the news like fast food
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| Like every soldier killed is glad to
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| Every single bill’s to tax you, every single bill’s just passed through
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| Steady phone calls harass you, while the National Debt’s around fourteen figures
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| But I figured ain’t nobody calling them pointing fingers
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| I want my government to fear me, flag me
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| Watch list, try and gag me
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| V for Vendetta black bag me
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| I intend to marry my right to bear arms
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| A militia mentality, rally me and move on
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| Behind enemy lines, with every line, I’m like Tiananmen
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| Can’t state my sentiments and my contemporaries?
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| They’re just temporarily dead weight
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| Way beyond local PD, it’s a fed case
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| To justify killing, you’re considered a head case
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| You ply with villains and you’re living in dead space
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| I mean blackball publicly your patriotism’s erased character defaced like stars
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| at last calls
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| As drunk straw witty one-liners that our city’s finest citizens
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| Are eating fine dinners in
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| Slipping in back doors and killing them slow
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| For such a rich country we got little to show
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| I don’t condole flying planes into two buildings but I understand kids shooting
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| school children (why)
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| Cause I reach that level myself, when everyone else start to look like the
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| devil himself, it doesn’t help
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| Everyday they betray foreigners as catalysts to coroners and killers
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| Like every Muslim born is suicide bombing his village and raping and pillage
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| and on 'til freedom is gone
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| That sells stickers and T-shirts but kids back from war a year later you could
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| stick 'em in deep earth
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| I got a message for politicians, I’m polishing my weapons and mission to be
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| abolishing their posh living
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| Like shooting fish in a barrel, glistening
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| Pistols carrying arm, like Marilyn, Christmas Caroling
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| Gone are those days
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| Y’all ain’t reap what you sow cause the last thing you’ll see is my muzzle
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| flash glow |