Lyrics:
the distribution of wealth
The weapons industrial complex, and the use of
Force by sundown
Like I said we the crazy ones
No
Them the crazy ones, you know
covid 19 lockdowns and restrictions to push through this transformation
The great reset is being rolled out
Under the guise of a fourth industrial
You can call it reparations or restitution
Lock and load nigga, industrial revolution
I want fifty three million dollars for my calloused hands
you're resourceful
I'm so remorseful
The natives were in touch with you before this industrial, forceful
Revolution
Total destruction, the only solution
fuckin' with the business when the stove hot
Well look at me in the kitchen with the stove top
Ziplock bag, distribution to the whole block
Shit
frames to see my vision
It smells like cream mixed with weed, this is classy and hood
Drama llama time, nigga, what's good?
Domino's, motherfucker, it's
Therapy for the prison industrial complex
Provided the context for the crime with the Tec nine
At Brooklyn Tech I spit it the best so they had to respect
Quickly defined the standard for indie rap distribution
Arrogant unafraid shit developed riding a train thinking of brain fucks
"Bad Touch Example" that
the world’s unchained.
Chorus:
Every new tool that shakes the frame,
Is just a step in the game.
From horse to car, from flame to forge,
We ride the wave
plans for industrial espionage
Grappling hook I swing above your clueless head
I just want the blueprints and nobody dead
I snatch that with more
Texas gotta be felt
I'm a vet so it's automatic when I be swingin' my wide frame
4-4's to 24's I'm subject to glide man
Like a pimp without the numbers
time positioning
Take aim, blast government conspiracies out the frame
Excuse me, El Diablo, excuse me
The worldwide be -boy exhibit is now
on back stabbing vultures selling my soul for material wishes
Rewind it back to the crack and distribution packs hard
To adapt feeling trapped so frame
making distributions
Time for me to get a M, man damn I’m sick of losing
Gotta snapback, like a fitted cap
Said he bouta put the wood out, let me finish
'bout it fore I blew up, yeah okay
Authentic
Major distribution, fuck a label
They been watching me just like the cable
Authentic since the fuckin cradle
distribution
How will I get God's retribution
I'm simply stuck, mail came through
Letters from my niece and nephews
They wrote that they wanna visit
This next
He saw them bodys
An his mind changed
That's shit fucked up
His whole mind frame
He thuggin cause he got a pistol
I guess Some things a never change
made for surfing sidewalks
Man I have to skate
Just one rule oh, there are none fool
Skate industrial pipes and any well drained pool
Transitions,
Can you smell the moral decay in the city of night that never sleeps?
Through the empty streets, through industrial disease
I am the system shock, i
duffel bag conecto (Quinientos)
Planta Treinta Torre Cinco en Volvoreta silencioso como pisando moqueta
No Buscetta (Aa Aa)
Goliath frames doin crime all
rods in the pod
Ship them off, don't stop
And move on to the Modular Frames
The Rotors and Cables
The table says we are waiting
On lots of crates
And if
you African
So they had to kill him
Kill him
Kill him
Kill him
Kill him
Through the lights, cameras and action
Freeze frames with the killer captions
buzzing Sheering your dreams, slaughtering beings by the dozens! Industrial Age enhanced triple6 technology
Evolved tricknology, microchips in your
I heard freedom, calling out my name
I rushed to answer, heard it telling me "step out of their frame"
Saying : "it's time to turn the tables, you
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