It’s time to get rid of that other shit that you’ve been listening to
Sort of like I robbed you of your iPod
It’s my job, to bring the revolution to you
Spears and shields I’m in the field like a Zulu
Warrior, until the working class is victorious
The glorious rebel forces will build up until there’s more of us
A hoard of us attacking with no government backing
Sacking bosses, taking no losses as we’re unshackling
What’s happening brother? Nothing other than some bullshit
Standing on the corner with a red flag and full clip
Tucked inside an SKS, which I ain’t supposed to posses
'Cause I’m a felon but I find it kind of compelling
That cops carry Glocks through the streets of New York
When a person like me is stuck with just a knife and a fork
I’m marching right to the court with a fight in my thought
Night at the source, a pig roast, yeah slicing the pork
Coming from out of the gutter they stutter humina humina
Better run for the money 'cause sun they coming to punish ya
Advance glance of the flash dance, it’s your last chance
Cultural revolution, cold shooting for gunning ya
Pause, times four, cats blind can’t find your
Mind your fucking business, is it on the sidelines or
Up front and personal, fuck stunts when they’re hurting you
Word, all you heard was buck buck and they merking you
Blood on your shirt squirting through, die you virtually certain to
True, the blue code of silence will violently curtain you