Lyrics:
but obey the block rules
Cock tools put chlorine in record pools
Are there anyone like ya (Hell no!)
I treat humans like students (Fail y'all)
So
Ignorance and fear
The only tools they need to use to make us fools
Obey their phony rules
We the people give them power
Work and sweat to get
At the same time I can have the tool, that's the microphone the utensil
While I come through the Southside, everybody say man that boy's instrumental
Better
a lie and a tool
And the fantasies that fill my mind, they're not tender and they're not kind
They're not kind, they're the kind, they're the kind
That
mics are used to record the subliminal
Pro Tools chapped em soundwave and make em digital
Flow cool Juice'll do the mic something pitiful
For me you're
acting pretty cool
Powered by the calm-reaction-tool
24-Bit Love-protection
Coolness guaranteed
Shyness is the least that you will need
Television
packin' pocket tools
Fresh out say fuck 'em, yeah, I made a gang of raps
Smokin' weed in a rental with the gangsta tracks
Straight chewy, and a nigga got
or love for you funny fools
'cause I be Rollin, Rollin, Rollin on them twenty-twos
Sippin brews, packin tools for you funny fools
[Monk]
I'm from
a disaster
The kitchen table's in the pool
The sound of laughter
Echoes on inside my mind, holes in the plaster
And I feel like such a tool
And so abused,
Hatred just a tool the aggressors to control
Into the jungle's depth,into the desert storm
Caught between legions of hate
Caught beneath malefic eyes
Waiting by the neverend road
We ain't old we ain't cold
We ain't sold
To lower kings baby
I know a way to escape
The little parade
The offer I make
music and lyrics by Corb Lund
I tried my best to stop them, yes, I tried to make them wait
And I appealed to their decency show mercy on this
I am a rocket I am a gun
I am always on the run
I am possessed by a beautiful sickness
Rock n roll is my business
Give me money for life
The blare that could define you
Coveted by few who knew
The phone rings without pause
This grief wills everyone
All I have is our shitty song
How could
don't have a clue - but - what's up
With all of these times when you never stood by me
You never been with me, you never said once at all that you'd miss
with booze, and choose to snooze, its just a wicked tool
Defusing trinkets cause we link it with infinite jewels
You know the rules and keep it
mood
Bright sound into my fears when I hear you
And we use this fancy tools for mind-hope
Dear me, let the words out of me, as true as they can
We dance
it
Is it cool when I get it, act a fool
Can I hit it by the pool
Baby, tell me if you're with it, with it
Is it cool, can I it when the club over
Bring
children is more important than what we do
It's relentless
This ignorance that infects us all
It has come to be what we expect
Perpetuated by years
to a bomb
Humanity is gone, smoked up in a gravity bong
by a democrat republican Cheech and Chong
Immortal Technique, you never heard me preachin' a song
the pavement
Looking for payment saying fuck enslavement
Usin the tools of old ancients
Announcing my engagment to this music that we making
Ain't no faking
I play the game by your rules
Because I know you've got the tools
I'm not crying
You watch my steps
My every move
Because you're looking for
three times in a row, I feel like TK Kravitz
Don't tell me shit, I already know I'ma say, "Yeah yeah"
When I was throwed away, you left me by
and it's beatin' like Pro-Tools (flock, flock)
Play with my bread, I'ma toast you
Bustin' these plays and rememberin' socials
Soap Gang, flockin' Adidas
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