Immortal Technique - Land of the Gun lyrics

rate me

[James Nichols from Bowling for Columbine]

Some people, law enforcement, if you want to call them that

Were here and they were shaking in their shoes. They were physically

Shaking scared to death. Because certain people, said I'm a radical

I'm a wild man; I got a gun under every arm, if you say anything

I'll shoot you. If the people find out how they've been

Ripped off, and enslaved, they will revolt with the blood

Running in the sheets

Yo, Ticket to ride, the white crime, highway

Bring all the guns; the funds will come my way

Whether we deliverin' high grade

To the people in the pit of the tri-state

Or dabble in the hood like fly weights

Lock and load in the range with rock the globe

Made any aim possible

Til the lead belly lost control

In the hold of the paper that fold

At one time was related to gold

Made many men lose their soul

To the price of the dice that roll

How can a light so bright make a man so cold?

So another man's plans unfold

Can you really see the truth till it happens to you?

Its so severe what the hopeless will do

Ain't no pickin’ your position in the beginning your life

Not every man want to stand by his kids and his wife

Too many lost kids in the night

Hand on heat, grippin’ it tight

Any man want beef could get it right

Followed by enough flame to put a permanent end

To the learning of men

Class session, too many the blast the last lesson

Often taught like the wars that are often fought

As old as mankind

Now outta his damn mind

Stand on the gunpowder landmine

Ready to blow at any second

I'm checking for the signs of the end

Of all-time, I figure its on time, my last thoughts forming the rhyme

Got me running through the streets

That reek of the dead, its more food to the welfare

My niggaz on welfare, nobody givin up healthcare

Nothing but heat, how you gonna tell me it ain't hell here?

George Bush having a swell year

Swingin' the gat, ready to clap, anything on the map

You done seen what they bring to Iraq

Now bring it back to the source, land of the physical force

Land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun!

This is the place where the cops rush in the building

Paramilitary death squads murder your children

Empty shell of a man rippin shots in the air

Soldiers dying out there, but nobody cares

Prepare for the future but make note of the past

Or be condemned to live it again and get blast

Class warfare kept outta the news

Replaced by a corporation's political views

Cause this is where the guns are manufactured and sold

The land that was stolen stripped of all of its gold

Old timers on the deathbed speakin the wisdom

Immigrants crucified by conservative Christians

Now we all got freedom to die in the street

But the difference is more of us die in a week

Than they die in a year I made it clear

Where I stand when the line is drawn

But now the line is gone

And nigga anything goes

The land where the guns don't let anything grow

And what the fuck you niggaz know about living in hell

You not built like me you never lived in a cell

You never gambled with your soul

Fuck the ice on your hand, gun in your palm

But you got a niggaz life in your hand

Young man, just remember that slicing a gram

Is a bloody game, like throwin mice in a fan

My words flow like the rivers that’s west of Iran

The Fertile Crescent moon, with the star in the middle

I reveal the depth of history's scars when I scribble

I gave you the world, and I ain't even charged you a little

The martyr is crippled

The prophets are dead and buried, but the message is simple

And its not written down in holy books as a riddle

Now we running through the streets, starvin

On that guerilla warfare

My people stuck in a guerilla warfare

Innocent children screamin in tears

You actin like the army ain't put hell here

Military industry havin a swell year

Swinging a gat while lying in heaven

Living off a blank check after 9/11

But I'm have the truth brought back to the source

Fight for my land with physical force

Speak through music, the subliminal course

I need a tek and a clip, fuck a jag and a Porsche

Land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun.