payday monsanto – ain’t that a shame lyrics
they smile in your face…
like they ain’t got no problems with you…
they’re tryin’ to build their case…
and, once they do, you’re through…
the feds look upon me, thinkin’ they sl!ck, like fonzie, but i got alot of dirty pictures, and some laundry. i write my name on they train, like i’m dondi, educated at oxford, just call me ghandi. but, i ain’t no frontman, don’t put your life in the hands of a likable milk+toast stuntman. i use socially unacceptable grammar, whenever the f+ck i want, man, and you just a c+nt, man. you’re gettin’ f+cked by the pimps in thе senate, and the parliamеnt, you should’ve repented, you’re a part of it. tyranny is bein’ passed around the hill, and they ain’t even authorized to read the m+th+f+ckin’ bill. they know things, but they ain’t allowed to say that, that’s ’cause they’ve been purchased, by aipac. “payday, why ain’t you signed, man? you rockin” sorry, man, i’ve been blacklisted by abe foxman…
ain’t that a shame?
war is a game…
they know your name…
they know your number…
and, your address is the same…
database workin’, unveil the kirchen, nsa snoopin’ on your conversation, for searchin’. your freedom is bein’ buried, and the media’s highly paid, to keep you from worryin’. they made you a slave, from cradle to grave, plato’s cave, concur with the way you behave. everything i say, true experts know that, disagree homie, and you must be poppin’ prozac. lackeys with neck+ties, get asphyxiated, that’s the only practical+purpose, freemasons made it. i don’t play with b’nai b’rith, knights of the golden circle, that kkk sh+t. anything to cause strife among the goyim, and facilitate the talmudic+war to destroy ’em. jokers don’t concern me, i got the game on lock, they’re like “turnkey, turnkey!”
ain’t that a shame?
war is a game…
they know your name…
they know your number…
and, your address is the same…
everywhere you go, you got a trac+phone, they can see you when you leave the premises, when you comin’ back home. soon you’ll be relegated to an exact zone, a slave+grid built upon the taxpayer’s backbone. so many holes in their story, it’s r+t+rded, unreliable, control of the story, from the start, is what they try to do. 9/11’s a joke, your leaders are maniacal, shape+charges used to cut steel, undeniable. the same m+th+f+ckas who knocked down the towers, you see ’em in d.c., wave h+llo, they don’t say hi to you. well aware of the poisons that are sprayed on you, and they shut the f+ck up, ’cause that’s what they’re paid to do. i’m so thankful for the things i got, and my plant can’t grow, if it ain’t hot, and off the grid with a spot, man, but, if you wanna come and see me, i’m near frankford & cottman. sometimes you can catch me in your transylvania, the hood is good, but the woods up in pennsylvania provide a serene surroundin’, you ain’t go no cares, you could even feed the bears, it’s astoundin’…
ain’t that a shame?
(huh, huh, huh, huh, huh)
war is a game…
(come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on)
they know your name…
(that’s right)
they know your number…
and, your address is the same…
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