| On stolen shores, we wrote these poems
|
| Can’t make it yours, any land on the earth
|
| It began with the man and it got complex
|
| I guess Pampas promise, No honest-y among theives
|
| When the land was free then a few individuals could breed
|
| Succeed in division, driven by the vision on that land-mass
|
| Never make the land last longer than the last laugh
|
| God show (half-ass)
|
| Real estate agents are really fake agents of Satan, quote that
|
| Government’s warpath, roll back borders
|
| Remaining controllers of most of our oceans
|
| How do we condone it?
|
| Most of our oceans, they never should own it (we own it!)
|
| Yo, Don’t stop, get-it get-it
|
| Money hungry while I’m in it
|
| The world is mine and everything I find all up in it
|
| Don’t give a fuck who I’ve offended!
|
| I’ll take your life like I took this land and keep rollin man
|
| Like an ice cream truck, I’m so cold wit' it
|
| But try to plan it like Community-watch, or like a cop on your block
|
| Got my hand in the oldest stocks, so when it snows I stay humble and high
|
| All I know is the top
|
| Yo, who are you to say what I ain’t got? |
| When I cop, all the whips
|
| And got all the chicks, stay on my dick to play the skin flute
|
| Like a didgeridoo, control the media too
|
| Got my eyes on you
|
| My bank money? |
| I’ll loan you
|
| You work for me, shit I own you!
|
| And mother is earth, our palms up her sizzer
|
| Find her with her gems and suck the life out the dessert
|
| Like a wizard (a wizard!), ??whats the final trick?
|
| Super-rich once I sell this bitch
|
| I need a remote control for my remote control
|
| So when I leave this bitch I’m STILL in control
|
| Selling what you never owned; |
| Land, water, sand
|
| Put a price upon the beauty of our planet is ridiculous
|
| But we on a metronome
|
| A story telling fella dropping knowledge on the ego’s of a species out of
|
| control
|
| Cash hungry bastards, chopping down trees to produce paper money
|
| Fiber from the earth backwards
|
| Man’s thought process: Anywhere I stand’s for sale
|
| The European, pale-faced world
|
| Native Americans, stripped for the heritage
|
| A people who understood the concept of earth
|
| The one and only ever-life force can’t be bought
|
| So they give away, even by the ??? |
| of the world
|
| Yea, Is your mind yours?
|
| What defines war, then confines doors?
|
| It’s a sign OR you’s a time-whore!
|
| Meaning demons fiending, scheming
|
| Propaganda build their own team when
|
| Beef’s in, and people letting time pass on by
|
| And never last or try, that’s why them cats so high
|
| And now they’re old-ass guys, when the life you live
|
| Future’s negative
|
| Afraid to have some kids, cause every tax you get
|
| Bust the guns, the runs, our son’s will take to make capitalist cake
|
| A bake, you in face
|
| Care about the money they make
|
| They sold the world for bookdeals, oil kickbacks
|
| Steel exports, beef extracts
|
| Back scenes lack, the true antidote
|
| Boxed like the Pope, fearing light
|
| Jail without soap on the rope, live without hope
|
| So we live, give out dope to our own people cope
|
| The pain to alert, to the fantasy
|
| Never sell myself short! |