War Torn

And once upon a time, like right about now, there was
A nation with a ball and chain, and truth was not allowed
Persuasion subtle as a wrinkle on the brows
The people turned to sheeple. Led astray, I’ll tell you how
Devastation turned the town
And Cobra forces took control of everything around
So many lost and not a hero to be found, so
A spoonful of sugar helps the genocide go down
Recessions only felt in poor sections
seems shitty. But once you start
Forgetting and experiencing
They no longer have control of your attention. That’s their
Biggest weapon. They drag us in emotional directions
It’s how they make it hard for us to manifest the lessons
But I’ll refuse to hush. I got too much aggression pent up, so I’ll
Bust until their infrastructure rupture from the pressure
The self war-torn. Stress on the brow
Closest to them, we never give up now
Walking in the valley, never give up now
Praise to the Sun, now we’ll walk on ground
It’s like I got the target in the telescopic
Got to be important if they’re guarding ‘em with helicopters
A description of my spare breath: what I need
For living, hits the rhythm with precision of a hair’s breadth
Could bitch about an unfair rep or just
Listen to the shit and just admit it wasn’t there yet
I swear that’s ridiculenous. Depending on the
Piece that I’m presenting. In particular, this
Rick didn’t miss. Chrome the assist. Like Corona
It licks like liquor in vehicular risk. Into-
-xicated, raining, straining over vision
Two times to crash just once like
No energy bars, a little radar to show you where your
Enemies are. To the finish line within these bars
The self war-torn. Stress on the brow
Closest to them, we never give up now
Walking in the valley, never give up now
Praise to the Sun, now I’ll walk on ground
This is not
Another distraction of suckers rapping. We
Tell ‘em about the Hell and we helping in taking action
«Here, feel the smell and the fear.» They shove it in your face
And stuff in your ear to displace
You’re happy when you beat your man at Madden
But every day you waste as a player’s just another
The hidden masters put you in your place and stay. A player
Chasing paper that you have to burn faster than you capture
The realest hater’s praying for the rapture
Actually, they’re busting their ass to make it happen faster
See, there’s a class of man that’s and grabbed the land
And snatched up all the natural resources with the magic hand
In ancient time, they sat by the bank, controlled
The currency to climb, then you sink
I’ll stand behind these bars with a shank. See how my
Dough work? Don’t even think—just do your homework
The self war-torn. Stress on the brow
Closest to them, we never give up now
Walking in the valley, never give up now
Praise to the Sun, now we’ll walk on ground
Kings return to cult
Observe no change in the Minority Report
Poisoned the root, made the static distort, but the
Fabric is black magic is how the mightiest move
I’m a of sorts, strike free with the
Voice of a prince and the song of a slave
The flav, I’ll stick to concave for my
Lady’s just room for her praise
Playful staple like Tropicana vodkas
Now Apocalypse, Dennis Hopper
imposter, synthetic art doctors
I’m erratic ‘til my quota is penned in
We got static ‘til reparation amends
Right brother to the left of all trends
son, the fate is revenge
The self war-torn. Stress on the brow
Closest to them, we never give up now
Walking in the valley, never give up now
Praise to the Sun, now I’ll walk on ground
The self war-torn. Stress on the brow
Closest to them, we never give up now
Walking in the valley, never give up now
Praise to the Sun, now we’ll walk on ground