His spit is worth more then her work Pass the purse to the puglist He's a prizefighter He brought rings and he owns kin And now he's swinging And now
Every official that comes in Cripples us leaves us maimed Silent and tamed And with our flesh and bones He builds his homes Southern fist Rise through
Yeah Ya Tryin' Ta Tire Me, Tire Me I Can See You In Front Of Me, Front Of Me Ya Tryin' Ta Tire Me, Tire Me Why Don't You Get From In Front Of Me She's
Yeah I'm rollin' down Rodeo wit a shotgun These people ain't seen a brown skin man Since their grandparents bought one So now I'm rollin' down Rodeo
This microphone explodes, shattering the molds Ya either drop tha hits like de la O or get tha Fuck off tha commode Wit tha sure shot, sure ta make tha
[*whispers*] Feel the funk blast.. Feel the funk blast.. FEEL THE THE FUNK BLAST!! FEEL THE FUNK BLAST!!! A-FEEL THE FUNK BLAST!! Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo,
Satelittes And Mirrors And A Man Without A Home A Horse And A Rider And A Clever Cunning Killer Silent In Error And Vocal In Spotlight Lying Always Sucking
Turn on tha radio, nah fuck it turn it off Fear is your only god on the radio Nah fuck it, turn it off Turn it off, turn on tha radio, nah fuck it turn
Lick Off The Shot My Stories Shock Ya Like Ellison Main Line Adrenaline Gaza To Tienanmen From The Basement I'm Dwellin' In I Cock Back The Sling To Stone
Sam Step back, I know who I am Raise up your ear, I'll drop the style and clear It's the beast and lyrics they fear The rage is relentless We need a movement
Tha sistas are in so check the front line Seems I spent the '80s in the Haiti state of mind Cast me into classes for electro shock Straight incarcerated
Agin' This Bolo Tight On This Solo Flight Can't Fight Alone Funk Tha Track My Verbs Fly Like Tha Family Stone Tha Pen Devils Set That Stage For Tha War
Killing in the name of Some of those that work forces, are the saints that burn crosses Now ya do what they told ya Don't you die or justify You're
of old Tom Joad Now Tom Said; "Ma, whenever ya see a cop beatin' a guy Wherever a hungry new born baby cries Whereever there's a fight against the blood
'll break in Something must be done About vengeance, a badge and a gun 'Cause I'll rip the mike, rip the stage, rip the system I was born to rage against
Still knee-deep in the system's shit Hoover, he was a body remover I'll give ya a dose But it'll never come close To the rage built up inside of me Fist
A jail cell is freedom from the pain in my home Hatred passed on , passed on and passed on A world of violent rage But it's one that I can recognize Having
Solo, I'm a soloist on a solo list All live, never on a floppy disk Inka, inka, bottle of ink Paintings of rebellion Drawn up by the thoughts I think