[James Nichols from Bowling for Columbine]
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Them people, law enforcement, if you want to call them that
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were here and they were shaking in their shoes. They were physically
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shaking, scared to death. Because certain people, said I'm a radical
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I'm a wild man, I got a gun under every arm, if you say anything
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I'll shoot you. If the people find out how they've been
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ripped off, and enslaved, they will revolt with the blood
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running in the streets.
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Yo, Ticket to ride, the white crime, highway
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Bring all the guns, the funds will come my way
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Whether we deliverin' high grade
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To the people in the pit of the tri-state
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Or dabble in the hood like fly weights
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Lock and load in the range with rock the globe
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Made any aim possible
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Til the leadbelly lost control
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In the hold of the paper that fold
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At one time was related to gold
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Made many men lose their soul
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To the price of the dice that roll
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How can a light so bright make a man so cold?
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So another man's plans unfold
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Can you really see the truth til it happens to you
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Its so severe what the hopeless will do
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Ain't no pickin' your position to beginning your life
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Not every man want to stand by his kids and his wife
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Too many lost kids in the night
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Hand on heat, grippin' it tight
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Any man want beef could get it right
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Followed by enough flame to put a permanent end
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To the learning of men
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Class session, too many the blast the last lesson
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Often taught like the wars that are often fought
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As old as mankind
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Now outta his damn mind
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Stand on the gunpowder landmine
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Ready to blow at any second
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I'm checking for the signs of the end
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Of all-time, I figure its on time, my last thoughts forming the rhyme
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Got me running through the streets
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That reek of the dead, its more food to the wealthy
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My niggaz on welfare, nobody givin' up healthcare
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Nothing but heat, how you gonna tell me it ain't hell here?
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George Bush having a swell year
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Swingin' the gat, ready to clap, anything on the map
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You done seen what they bring to Iraq
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Now bring it back to the source, land of the physical force
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Land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun!
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This is the place where the cops rush in the building
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Paramilitary death squads murder your children
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Empty shell of a man rippin' shots in the air
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Soldiers dying out there, but nobody cares
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Prepare for the future but make note of the past
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Or be condemned to live it again and get blast
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Class warfare kept outta the news
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Replaced by a corporation's political views
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Cause this is where the guns are manufactured and sold
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The land that was stolen stripped of all of its gold
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Old timers on the death bed speakin' the wisdom
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Immigrants crucified by conservative Christians
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Now we all got freedom to die in the street
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But the difference is more of us die in a week
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Than they die in a year I made it clear
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Where I stand when the line is drawn
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But now the line is gone
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And nigga anything goes
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The land where the guns don't let anything grow
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And what the fuck you niggaz know about living in hell
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You not built like me you never lived in a cell
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You never gambled with your soul
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Fuck the ice on your hand, gun in your palm
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But you got a niggaz life in your hand
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Young man, just remember that slicing a gram
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Is a bloody game, like throwin' mice in a fan
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My words flow like the rivers thats west of Iran
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The fertile crescent moon, with the star in the middle
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I reveal the depth of history's scars when I scribble
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I gave you the world, and I ain't even charged you a little
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The martyr is crippled
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The prophets are dead and buried, but the message is simple
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And its not written down in holy books as a riddle
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Now we running through the streets, starvin'
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On that guerilla warfare
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My people stuck in a guerilla warfare
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Innocent children screamin' in tears
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You actin' like the army ain't put hell here
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Military industry havin' a swell year
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Swinging a gat while lying in heaven
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Living off a blank check after 9/11
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But I'm have the truth brought back to the source
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Fight for my land with physical force
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Speak through music, the s |