Apathy — Wretches (feat. LP, Ryu, Scoop Deville & Divine Styler)

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Текст Apathy — Wretches (feat. LP, Ryu, Scoop Deville & Divine Styler)

Steel unload, final blow
We the animals take control
Hear us now, clear and true
Wretches and kings we come for you

To save face, how low can you go
Act like ya heard but yet you don’t know
I act like a murderer, Dexter with the flow
They underestimate me, I’m killing ’em on the low
So get down, but you don’t really have an option
Shouting at the top of your lungs, please stop it
My Woodstock mixed with some ’88 Compton
Lucy in the Sky with a sawed-off shotgun
Stop it, walk into a beat so cold
The rhythm that’s created when these guns unload
And no one make a move unless my people say so
Got everything outta control, now everybody go

Occupying, modifying every state in downtown
Gentrifying, simplifying military compounds
Satellite, nanobytes superchip in subhuman Manchurian
I’m so Megatron

Steel unload, final blow
We the animals take control
Hear us now, clear and true
Wretches and kings we come for you
Steel unload, fire blow
Filthy animals beat them low
Skin and bone, black and blue
No more this sun shall beat onto you

Tell the people what the truth is, standing in the booth it’s
A soldier surrounded by his troops bitch
I don’t really know just what a truce is but I never call one
Look into the crowd and control like Stalin
Josef, hopeless, so pissed, bottom of the soap dish
Scummy-ass pro-fit, prophet
Semi-automatic in my front coat pocket
Loaded, if anyone opposes I’ll pop it

Yeah, now when we hit the blocks
And set them car alarms off like you hear the cops
Everyone stop for a second, just watch
And if you hear them shots, (get down) drop
Tweaking up your brainwaves, glitches, rags, riches
Snitches, pipe-dream swishes, it might be suspicious
Any mister or misses that try to go against us
Might get stitches or wiped out of existence

Overseers operate, in and out of the camera
Navigating states in post-race through Gamera
Bottom feeders and eaters, victimizing with heaters
With clever reasons for eating and better means for competing
Futurism contemporary, so very modern
It’s as simple as putting memories into body prizms
Anarchist language, mind full of anguish
Internet’s to slang this, a boom-box to bang this

Boom bye-bye in the muhfucka head
That we manwhan heavy but the nahwan dead
I spew propaganda through these prison camp speakers
I’m a grim reaper in a pair of Michael Jordan sneakers
Freedom fighter see cypher killers still as the night go
Ice cold, blood in my veins, brain of a psycho
Manufactured with my soul fractured in half
Divided by my violent side so you add up the math
I’m half Elohim, alpha omega, beggar and peasant
Half king, half ruler of the things that are wretched
I’m crawling out of the wreckage, I’ll call you out on my records
I’ll knock you out in a second for you to sat on the message, listen