|
[Zach de la Rocha]
Transmission, third World War, third round
A decade of the weapon of sound above ground
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 cameras eyes on choice disguised
Was it cast for the mass who burn and toil
Or for the vultures who thirst for blood and oil?
Yes, a spectacle monopolized!
They hold the reins, stole your eyes!
All the Fist-a-gons, the bullets, and bombs
Who stuff the banks
Who staff the party ranks
More for Gore or the son of a drug lord
None of the above. FUCK IT, cut the cord!
[Chorus]
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!
TURN THAT SHIT UP!
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!
TURN THAT SHIT UP!
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!
TURN THAT SHIT UP!
LIGHTS OUT! GUERILLA RADIO!
Contact, I highjacked the frequencies
Blockin' the beltway, move on DC!
Way past the days of bombin' MCs'
Sound OFF, Mumia guan be free!
Who got 'em? Yo, check the federal file
All you pen devils know the trial was vile
An army of pigs try to silence my style
Off 'em all out that box, it's my radio dial!
[Chorus]
[guitar riff]
[*whispers*]
It has to start somewhere..
It has to start sometime...
What better place than here?..
What better time than now?...
[repeat 6X]
ALL, HELL, CAN'T STOP US NOW!!
|