| Divin in hell — o’shit! |
| I see so many faces, introduse ma meat
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| Suicide? |
| Right, I neva do what I mean Fight — against who wins
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| Black — sickness attacks ma eyes Sickness attacks ma ears — spies
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| Everywhere — bust their asses But we’re not aggresive
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| White — sickness attacks ma mind Run to tha hills, feel tha speedy wheels
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| Ruin tha ancient civilisations No mercy for oua patience
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| Tommy — he’s so poor boy, has no toy Fatha gone west, motha is under arrest
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| Home sweet home it’s reservation — They not survive like a nation
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| Fuck! |
| 'N u teel me 'bout tha progress No choice for human knowin less
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| Than beasts except to kill This manwho runs to tha hill
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| Discrimination means this kind of organisation
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| Destitute of their history, have no destiny
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| Prime guilty has no time To think about — that’s crime
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| Manitu, great Manitu Cry for indians
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| Radio stations pervert tha situation TV sets lie — hearless cry
|
| Police advise u rest all in peace now attention!
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| Movements, demonstrations, all this bullshit fiction
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| This just kind of fuckin addictions To keep tha soul quite and feel right
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| They think it’s better than fight, but … Yon know man, that yo stupid mentality
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| Kills in u human, u have no personality U’re impotent puppet in a skillfull hand
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| And this games will neva end
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| Manitu, great Manitu Cry for indians |