Political things in sharp suits persuade us to pull triggers. In army boots, yelling, "Join the armed forces," we lost the Vietnam War. Intoxicated poisons, needles in arms of veterans instead of bigger fortunes—there's still a lot of brothers calling in the corporate offices.
War in the ghetto, crabs in a barrel, they torture us. We won't be serving the beast too long, the murderers wearing police uniforms. Confederate flags, I burn. Beat street breakers dancing to the music I chose. The peace treaty Atlanta crack heads with stew in their nose. Frozen corners of Chicago, loaded up llamas, children with four 4s and double revolvers.
We double the carnage, we're headed to jail. The Shell gas company in South Africa be having us killed. The love of money was the death of Christ, and all you shorties coming up just resurrect your life. It's all a cycle.