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* Beavis and Butthead sample *
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[Butthead] Whoa! Uh-heheh-heheh, uh-heheh
|
That kicked ASS!
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[Beavis] Yeah yeah heh yeah
|
That was fly
|
|
* DJ Pam the Funkstress starts cuttin up "That was fly" *
|
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Chorus: Boots (repeat 2X)
|
|
20,000 gun salute, get rowdy like you got a substitute
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This slug's for Newt - shut your mouth, don't pollute
|
Army of down motherfuckers, shit we tryin to recruit!
|
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[Boots]
|
See now we're talkin systematic, mack mechanics, decomposin
|
Chosen, representatives, from the ho's been known to act wit
|
pimp theatrics, a tactic necessary
|
In fact they wanna have us buyin from the commissary
|
This commentary's for my folks under involuntary servitude
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Cause bosses don't be servin you your monetary
|
Pervin you like rum'n'dairy pulsin through your capillaries
|
Some inherit green, the rest just get our folks to bury
|
I'm abolitionary, wishin the judiciary
|
say this year for merry merry, free the penitentiary!
|
Peoples gon' rumble as long as stomachs grumble
|
and crack pipes tumble over asphault that's crumbled
|
Hundreds come in bundles and, hop is mixed with funnels
|
Cause babies wit shoes too small gon' stumble
|
This composition is sedition, opposition to the rulin class
|
Wishin they could detonate us hooked to the ignition
|
Keep my slacks creased to punch the clock for the beast
|
As my rent don't cease, his pockets get obese
|
Can't have inner peace without havin a piece
|
When the stepped on step up, we let the dragon release
|
|
Chorus
|
|
[Boots]
|
Disaster! The filthy rich bastards wanna milk yo' ass
|
faster, ask fuh, no salvation comin from the damn pastor
|
Old ladies play canasta, under roofs of cracker plaster
|
Little kids dive in the trash for discarded Dutchmasters
|
Dead potnahs on mural walls
|
Homeless kids takin baths up in gas station urinals
|
Shit the system can't cure it all
|
If everybody had a job then stock value's sure to fall
|
Hundred million neck slashes, so these facists
|
can make sho' that they check cashes, let's get massive
|
Wage struggle as direct classes, on just how we gonna
|
overthrow they bitch asses, give whiplashes
|
from the force as we make it tight, and ignite
|
the flames of takin over daily life, make it a right
|
to have food, threads and homestead
|
and Pac Bell won't ever cut your phone dead -- we own it!
|
But these business that love payin minimum wage
|
ain't gon' let you take they shit unless you showin the gauge
|
And if you do it by yourself they gon' put you in a cage
|
If you in a rage, please meet me on the same page, with a
|
|
Chorus
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
20,000 Gun Salute
|
The Coup |