We speak to power on the Capitol steps seize the hour like the back of your neck this is discipline weaklings cower from the wrath of the vets you'll feed the flowers if you actually step! I'm finna "finish him!" hit him with the friendship-then I'm out, peace you babies don't deserve fatalities observe us blaze the stoutest beats draped in crazed shouts and screams of amazed crowds, we claim the clout you seek, bang like shots rang out, brains on streets you are lost at sea, we are lava steaming through the bottom of the deep, monstrous, your fear calls to me we are the fathers whose fiendish acts make the sons and daughters weep you are carrion, y'all want no parts of me I am evil like the archetype of white people and slaves in the old days who in reality were owned by-Negroes control minds like TV shows saying we are cold's an understatement we're a day-with eighteen feet of snow kill 'em all (murder everybody) kill 'em all (murder everybody) kill 'em all (murder everybody) I came to kill 'em all (murder everybody) [x2] We take what we desire, fillet you into parts staked over a fire, displaying your beating heart terrifyingly efficient experts of dissection monstrous curiosity, evil geniuses' questions every avenue's an abbatoir, bodysnatch you, Avatar, Shiva, Kali, reapers, volleys carving battle scars, cold steel cleaners, clever, cleavers sever scythes, sickles, the reaping, you're merely meat and leather creatures creeping, leaving freezing weather people weeping, liters leaking, police and stretchers trying was a sad joke potna, you cats ain't anything we're scientists in lab coats, doctors lacking empathy you're dying as you grab, grope awkward, gasping, grimacing crying as your last hope's slaughtered at the guillotine it really seems like rap is a serial killer's dream burned and wrapped in plastic, leaving ears filled with screams kill 'em all (murder everybody) kill 'em all (murder everybody) kill 'em all (murder everybody) I came to kill 'em all (murder everybody) [x2]

in '88, the scene was all love, trading dubbed tapes now it's free MP3s and the feeling is love-hate I'm saying, it's entertainment, but the game changed a bit from niggas we loved to hate to tremendously fuckin' fake so the language went from truthful to commercially fruitful you know that gangsta shit got plenty lames paid a grip did it doom the whole genre when Interscope's budget takes the whole culture in a different direction, so what you make's a reflection of intent to create disconnection when half these fuckers are scrubbing papes or fronts for Jake or BOTH, so make of that what you will, I know the game, fuck what's real, 'cause it's too complicated, motherfuckers feel like reality's not enough, truth is stranger than fiction like hidden incentives to stimulate anger and friction feeding silent partners in private prisons a new harvest of slaves, and it's constitutional due to due process okay, let's say for the sake of argument it's made in a way where very few artists consciously take part in it and the ones who find out and don't agree get targeted so those who do, know how dangerous knowledge gets I'm saying this while claiming it's a farce, but shit if you're utterly heartless and rich, really how hard would it be to start that shit if intelligence agencies bought partnerships with media, prisons, and popular products through sponsorships then suppressed knowledge by refusing to acknowledge important shit or exploring it while ignoring important parts of it who's the bard? to wit, if there's an authorized party line, then who actually authors it? it was written like the book of life, but if you look, goodnight seen good men like King get cooked in the good fight while crooks live the good life, like kings, I guess the game is just a jux, right? No wonder listeners wanted to listen to the hood's plight; it's their story laid bare! Staying scared to take it there in real life so that NWA tape is where they found the gate to fair play tear away the veil, it's so basic if we dare to face it, rare is the man whose mind sees through time, breathing lies isn't being my self so of course those who like to dwell in fire say life is Hell I'm like, why be another liar, might as well do it to death, but is hiphop expiring? time will tell I got more music next. Close your eyes, I write in braille. it's the force fused with tech, Ensite is alive and well muh'fucka... non-stoppin'!

I make waves underground in the west coast--destruction after this cut's done you'll be finished like post production I roast your function, not Comedy Central Birmingham your church since you think your body's a temple stop your life at a stoplight for trying to blot my light more shots than 2pac, head blew off, goodnight, Iron sights, blinding lights, you shouldn't have stood to fight you looked tight but suck so bad you probably should bite it's just as well, in the clutch you fail, tuck your tail and run like hell you were constructed to fail 'cause your structure is frail, fuck your sales, we bump like uncut rails you'd get punked like jail, punched and wailed on, I will take your luncheon pail your soundscans won't help you when you're a drowned man the difference between me and you is like pounds and grams and you're right if you're like "he's just making this up" but you STAY playing tough, so who's really fake as fuck? WHAT lives based on balling are the national pastime real leaders are either offline or on standby scandalous lies on the TV, it's a damn crime they're after your time, it's nothing to take your last dime lives based on balling are the national pastime real leaders are either offline or on standby scandalous lies in what we read, it's a damn crime they captured your mind, so it's nothing to take your last dime pray for us-- there's no escape from this craziness, it seems playing games, rats racing chasing pay, slaves to cream anxiously pacing awaiting what our fates will be angry, hating our babies faithfully, creative latency, fakes and schemes reshaping dreams, we're merely crazy apes that scream for modern Martin Luther Kings too afraid to make a scene they're aware CIA shooters await to blank your screen fade to black, back in the days we stayed in backs of buses now we fill them up back to front, packed like lunches police pointing gats that punch us as we're arrested why question the underlying facts as we're digested to live in the beast's bowels amidst shrieks and howls, confessions doubtless, without outlets-we're freaking out from the pressure grimly recounted how it ingrained initially preconditioning niggas from infancy to continually repeat history, grist for grisly scenes, but that isn't what you're gonna get from me, listen B: Rhymes based on balling are the national pastime real leaders are either offline or on standby scandalous lies on the TV, it's a damn crime they're after your time, it's nothing to take your last dime Rhymes based on balling are the national pastime real leaders are either offline or on standby scandalous lies in what we read, it's a damn crime they captured your mind, it's nothing to take your last dime we were taught profit is a proper motive so whose fault is it really when all the laws can't control it corral or curtail it and in actuality grow it and when you check the connections, each is mutually supported saying it's twisted isn't the half, shit is contorted recorded the cost even a boss couldn't afford it it's years, but not the ones the convicted serve it's the time our kids will live in desolation once we strip the Earth spoke the magic words forcefully but didn't listen first to the warnings that were attached to them unleashed forces before we mastered them disaster in the making building walls destined for crashing in wars for gas begin while the masses clap and grin, technocrats cashing in while Mad Max blasts your friends, this is the math of sin, the wages of which are death niggas slashed and trimmed for skating and missing steps grubbing off gambling, that's the skim, make it stretch it's gangsta, in days of future past, I present the present next let it rest, in peace, pieces of a dream deceased from the slow death of deferment, unreleased heat woe to our foes, it's curtains, through our guns we see… our seeds