Your terror keeps on, our pleas for peace gone. How many must die before you fuckin' realize the truth? By going to work and paying your taxes You're
Heil, myth and spite; read left to right I'm just a number but that's what you think. But numbers don't lie, so true and for years Now we think that
Smashes through bones, separates the skin. Crumbles brick and mortar to it's foundation. Murder excels, murderers commandeer themselves, The image
happens More fuckin' funerals, dead homies Niggas out here killin' each other I don't know why And when it happens to you just can't turn the other fuckin
Today in Los Angeles another youth loses his life Gunshot wound to the head Street violence is at an all-time high No jokin', I'm sleepin' with my eyes
Freedom with a gunshot wound, you like to take it. Know what your pay is for, ever tasted? The pounding breath of war, don't you feel it? The hatred's
, bring it how you feel My niggas is conscienceless and we kill or be killed Fuck doin' drive-bys man we do a pull up The nigga on the passenger side automatically die From several gunshot wounds
peace and love to BK Far Rock, drop it [Verse 1] I stash concealables under my underables, fuck them other crews I got a hundred goons bustin' you wid puncture wounds
dreams Whoever you are Chilled are the skies Keen is the frost The ground's froze hard And the morning is lost A letter to mother Came today Gunshot wound
hide But death showed no favorites Women, men, and children died One side called it a massacre The other a victory But the white flag is still waving Today at Wounded
the ground... the police have the entire area blocked off... (RUUUUNNN, BOOOOOYYYY!!!) everybody stay back... he is... being hustled in... to me, he appears dead, there's a gunshot wound
[Verse 1] (Today in Los Angeles another youth loses his life. Gunshot wound to the head. Street violence is at an all-time high) No jokin', I'm sleepin
... they'd cover my ears so I wouldn't hear the gunshots soar through those city streets. And if anyone questioned the liberty bomb, or why the timers were even wound
making them) We know I... I wanna know At twenty-seven do legends die? I... I wanna know After I break through the other side Cobain is dead, gunshot wound
