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Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #557
Peak in subgenre #309
Author
MAK/Exile-beats
Rights
MAK/Exile-beats
Uploaded
April 28, 2010
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.8 MB • 128 kbps • 3:03
Lyrics
[Intro]
We wither and rot, tagged wrist with marks
Marks Left by the braces, left by the braces
Shackled and locked, they treat us like dogs
like dogs, And Like dogs they keep us in cages
No bites no barks, no rights no sparks
except the hair growing out of our faces
tortured by guards, waterboarded and shocked
shocked that this aint frowned upon as racist
I breathe to the beat of the drippin red
Sleep to the countless screams of the livin dead
Listen it's simple my punch is only a fistful
Aint no bombs kitchen and I'll piss on a pistol
I wanna speak but my mouth always starts to bleed
A mouth covered in crimson, I got mouths to feed
But they're too far away for my hands to reach
I'm helpless, it's hopeless tryna plan to leave
Truth is they losin sight, show'em how to do this right
Electrocute me then turn talk about a human right
Kicked down the door.. dragged me on the floor
Held me up to the wall claimin I started the war
Daddy what's wrong, nothing baby daddy is fine
They have the wrong guy, I'll be back baby in time
Maybe for breakfast so smile baby pay me no mind
But little did daddy know about the airplane ride
[Hook]
Trade Blood for the ink bricks for the pad
walls for the books heavy, are the books on my back
bars for the lens, screams for the light
naked bodies for the stage and cuffs for the mic
kicks for the food, pain for the drink
guilt for ya innocence n being safe for the Brink
rats for ya trousers and sh** for ya shoes
..all because you let'em trade lies for truth
Shoved out the plane to the tune of our names
There we stood in the rain, hungry hooded and chained
Humiliated but kept holdin on to the tears
u don't eat pork or drink beer, you're sporting a beard
You read the Quran in fluent Arabic grammar
so mr.dune coon where the f*** is osama?
focus piss ya pants be afraid and know this,
We've been told you know how to bake explosives
no jury no judge please save the act
over here towel-head we make the facts
ironic, my freedom is stolen on stolen land
..stomp him n don't stop until he understands
screamin n spittin acid, ..cuffin up lungs
aint gonna spell it in layman's u guessed the rest of the saga
..they'll keep reckin havoc, so toughen up son
and outside they're still claimin Ernesto Guevara
[Hook]
[Mixed parts from the verses]
Song Likes
I like it, only advice I give is.. Make us feel it more..