Transmission third world war, third round
A decade of the weapon of sound above ground
Ain't no shelter if you're looking for shade
I lick shots at the brutal charade As the polls close like a casket on truth devoured
A silent play on the shadow of power
A spectacle monopolized
The camera's eye on choice disguised Lights out, Guerilla radio
Turn that sh** up
Lights out, Guerilla radio
Turn that sh** up Was it cast for the ma** who burn and toil
Or for the vultures who thirst for blood and oil?
A spectacle monopolized
They hold the reins and stole your eyes The fistagons, bullets and bombs
Who staff the banks? Who staff the party ranks?
More for Gore or the son of the drug Lord
None of the above, f** it, cut the cord Lights out, Guerilla radio
Turn that sh** up
Lights out, Guerilla radio
Turn that sh** up Lights out, Guerilla radio
Turn that sh** up Guerilla radio
Quit it now