(no subject)
This is the place where cops are rushing a building
paramilitary death squads murder your children.
Empty shell of a man lickin’ shots in the air.
Soldiers dying out there, but nobody cares.
Prepare for the future, but make note of the past
to be condemned to live it again and get blast.
Class warfare kept out of the news.
Replaced by a corporations’ political views
Cuz this is where the guns are manufactured and sold.
The land that was stolen, stripped of all of its gold.
Old timers on their deathbeds speaking the wisdom.
Immigrants crucified by conservative Christians
And we all got freedom to die in the street
but the difference is more of us die in a week
than they die in a year.
I made it clear
where I stand when the line is drawn
but now the line is gone.
And nigga, anything goes
the land where the guns don’t let anything grow
and what the fuck you niggas know about living in hell?
You’re not built like me, you never lived in a cell
you never gambled with your soul, fuck the ice on your hand
gun in your palm, but you got a niggas life in your hand
young man, just remember that slicing a gram
is a bloody game like throwing mice in a fan
my words flow like the rivers that’s west of Iran
The fertile crescent moon with the star in the middle
I reveal the death of history…scars when I scribble
I gave you the world and I didn’t even charge you a little
the martyr is crippled
the prophets are dead and buried but the message is simple
and it’s NOT written down in holy books as a riddle!
-Immortal Technique