Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sheep, artist - The Human AnimalDate of issue: 31.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Sheep |
| I’m pulp fiction, vulture kings pawns and pigeons |
| The quickest in this shit kicking a funky ass composition |
| No competition, we measure dicks by the caliber |
| Cannabis by the brick and enemies by their stamina |
| We out of land but see the family well fed |
| A weatherman running wit ammonia and lemonheads |
| A known provoker, chain smoke clit stroker |
| Lower city dope seller to the stock brokers |
| Hold your breath I set fires in every city now |
| State town heavily shelled we underground like |
| Hell’s elevators, sky scraping the rain black |
| Metal jaguar, city syndicated rap |
| Instrumental combat, we burn at full contact |
| Direct action, a fraction ain’t down but we gon' ration |
| Oil and food hidden with weapons in stash houses |
| A safe haven blacked out up in the mountains |
| The sheep are assets, but they need access |
| Why you think they’re paying Facebook them fat checks |
| $ 580 for MySpace, they’re enterprising |
| FBI on my line and profiling |
| Some days I wonder what the weather’s like underground |
| Envision cities that I once knew with bombs all around |
| Explosions in their offices and government buildings |
| Notes left at the scene, condemning their killings |
| Instilling fear in their eyes which they hide behind masks |
| As the pigs attack the innocent with guns and gas |
| Corporate windows smashed, molotovs torch cruisers |
| We fin a turn the capital into a scene from Fallujah |
| Pacifism spells privilege, I know what we’re facing |
| Rather be on the run than at home staying patient |
| I can’t fucking take it, this five year holocaust |
| Dreams of homemade bombs and aiming the sawed off |
| Cause this war will be ended only when we choose to end it |
| Peaceful protests are meaningless, let’s stop pretending |
| Break free from false conceptions, we’ll do more good than harm |
| Come together little weathermen, take up arms |
| The sheep are assets, but they need access |
| Why you think they’re paying Facebook them fat checks |
| $ 580 for MySpace, they’re enterprising |
| FBI on my line and profiling |
| I free the market and fuck it just like a virgin |
| Our brain dead but our bodies keep working |
| A bed of dirt underground in nests |
| Where mothers cry with their child duct taped to their chest |
| Selling recipes, whatever you want I got |
| Exotic animals and different types herbicidal crops |
| I got yellow fever, diseased rodents, and plagues |
| That I feed to wolves before I let them loose out the cage |
| See I never hesitate or hold my tongue |
| Or pay taxes to manufacture bombs and guns |
| When in the long run, they gon' be used on me |
| Already being watched by these CCTVs |
| Hidden cameras in the lamppost watch the street |
| Web cams in the bedroom to watch you sleep |
| Satellites in the sky, third eye of the state |
| Sophisticated search patterns and behavioral traits |
| The sheep are assets, but they need access |
| Why you think they’re paying Facebook them fat checks |
| $ 580 for MySpace, they’re enterprising |
| FBI on my line and profiling |