[*whispers*]
Feel the funk blast..
Feel the funk blast..
FEEL THE THE FUNK BLAST!!
FEEL THE FUNK BLAST!!!
A-FEEL THE FUNK BLAST!!
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, check it out, yo, yo, yo
[Zack de la Rocha]
I be walkin' god like a dog, my narrative, fearless
My word war returns to burn like Baldwin home from Paris
Like Steel from a furnace, I was born landless
This is the native son, born of Zapata's guns
Stroll through the shanties and the cities remains
Same bodies buried hungry but with different last names
These vultures rob everything leave nothing but chains
Pick a point on the globe! Yes, the picture's the same
There's a bank, there's a church, a myth and a hearse
A mall and a loan, a child dead at birth
There's a widow pig parrot, a rebel to tame
A white-hooded judge, a syringe and a vein
And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
[Hook]
What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
I'm calm like a bomb!
(Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite)
I'm calm like a bomb!
(Ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite, ignite)
This ain't subliminal, feel the critical ma** approach horizon
The pulse of the condemned, sound off America's demise
The anti-myth rhythm rock shocker, yes I spit fire
Hope lies in the smoldering rubble of empires
Yes back through the shanties and the cities remains
The same bodies buried hungry, but with different last names
Them vultures robbin' everyone, leave nothing but chains
Pick a point here at home, yes the picture's the same
There's a field full of slaves, some corn and some debt
There's a ditch full of bodies, the check for the rent
There's a tap, the phone, the silence of stone
The numb black screen that be feelin' like home
And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
[Hook x2]
(I'm Calm Like A Bomb!)
There's a ma** without roofs, there's a prison to fill
There's a country's soul that reads post no bills
There's a strike and a line of cops outside of the mill
There's a right to obey and there's a right to k**
There's a ma** without roofs, there's a prison to fill
There's a country's soul that reads post no bills
There's a strike and a line of cops outside of the mill
'Cause there's a right to obey and there's the right to k**