
Date of issue: 31.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Barb Wire |
The home of the free, land of the dead |
Where they phone tap your skull and x-ray your head |
We at the end of the world left sucking the roach |
So we get blunted off of ozone, ducking the scope |
Suckas are bone salad, 40 pallets of cash |
We using 30 tons of paper just to wipe our ass |
Aladdin mathematics like barreled crack unleashing mass havoc |
Falling asleep acclimated to the heat like cactus |
Nobody laughing, the racquet is far from funny cuz now |
The only way to stay warm is burn your money |
Buggin cuz everybody got plans to take from me but see |
A hungry man is willing to get they hands bloody |
And I want Disney to rebuild my home |
So I can live inside the magic of a plastic clone |
No holdin on, nobody home, none of the phones are on |
And nobody got an idea of where to find the bomb |
So now we moving through the sewage |
That wind through the pipeline |
Where the motherland first miscarriaged her child |
Crippled in silence, the metal fence electrified |
Miles of barb wire harvesting the virus of violence |
In the wasteland, abandoned with fire within our fists |
Guerillas with hand cannons in surrounding mist |
We in the wild where the habitat is act or kill |
So we get paid to fill the graveyards on Capitol Hill |
Inhale the air and smell the panic and fear |
The military in the street and death is almost here |
Feelings are homicidal, daily survival got me suicidal |
Divine wisdom with vision that crystal clear as diamond |
But y’all forgotten how rotten the morning breeze |
Iron tear gas, coughing off of airborne disease |
Trying to form reason to find peace with thieves |
But all I see are mausoleums from the freedom of greed |
And all these people pledging allegiance to the billboard ad |
And all these rows of bodies looking like railroad tracks |
Laying in maggots with rabbits that look like rats |
Cuz ain’t none of em got hair from always eating the trash |
Where all the acid from the factories is barreled and sent |
Then emptied out into the bay where all the waste is kept |
So all the residents next door that live in the fumes |
Eventually die of cancer and amass brain tumors |
So now we moving through the sewage |
That wind through the pipeline |
Where the motherland first miscarriaged her child |
Crippled in silence, the metal fence electrified |
Miles of barb wire harvesting the virus of violence |
In the wasteland, abandoned with fire within our fists |
Guerillas with hand cannons in surrounding mist |
We in the wild where the habitat is act or kill |
So we get paid to fill the graveyards on Capitol Hill |
Your neighbor dead and you ain’t safe no more |
So get the ammo and the camo and prepare for war |
In the black rain blasting through the track like shrapnel |
With a thousand raps patterned to be shattering asphalt |
Their ass soft crack em with the raw then lay off |
So when they ask for it have they ass nailed to the cross |
Shit we paranormal swarming streets like arachnids |
Ready for action, outfitted wit infidel fashion |
Captains, thematic maps and guerilla tactics |
Psychopathic copycats and kidnappers |
Rap cadavers that be past their prime |
I castrate em with the mic and dissect their minds |
With rhizomatic command style rhyme and syntax |
We craft addicts in backwoods like wolf packs |
Who abstracted, popular status of a savage |
That crack matches huffing on gas rapping like hijackers |
Radioactive on behalf on the mass |
Cuz half of you rappers suck and I ain’t being sarcastic |
In the wasteland, abandoned with fire within our fists |
Guerillas with hand cannons in surrounding mist |
We in the wild where the habitat is act or kill |
So we get paid to fill the graveyards on Capitol Hill |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Kill People | 2017 |
Sheep | 2017 |
Die Alive | 2017 |
Kill Me | 2017 |
Orange Carnage | 2017 |
Patriot Act | 2017 |
Children of War | 2017 |
Democra Sees a Dead Body | 2017 |