text: Feel the funk blast
  Feel the funk blast
  Feel the funk blast
  Feel the funk blast
  Feel the funk blast
  Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
  I be walkin God like a dog, my narrative, fearless
  Word war returns to burn like Baldwin home from Paris
  Steel from a furnace, I was born landless
  This is the native son, born of Zapata’s guns
  Through the shanties and the cities remains
  Same bodies buried hungry but with different last names
  These vultures rob everything, leave nothing but chains
  Pick a point on the globe, the pictures the same
  A bank and a church, a myth and a hearse
  A mall and a loan, a child dead at birth
  A widow pig parrot, rebel to tame
  A white-hooded judge, a syringe and a vein
  And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
  What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
  What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
  I’m calm like a bomb
  Im calm like a bomb
  This aint subliminal, feel the critical mass approach horizon
  The pulse of the condemned, sound off Americas demise
  The anti-myth rhythm rock shocker, yes, I spit fire
  Hope lies in the smoldering rubble of empires
  Back through the shanties and the cities remains
  Same bodies buried hungry, but with different last names
  Vultures robbin everyone, leave nothing but chains
  Pick a point here at home, the pictures the same
  Field full of slaves, some corn and some debt
  A ditch full of bodies, check for the rent
  Theres the tap, the phone, the silence of stone
  The numb black screen that be feelin’ like home
  And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard
  What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
  What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
  What you say, what you say, what you say, what?
  I’m calm like a bomb
  Im calm like a bomb
  I’m calm like a bomb
  Im calm like a bomb
  Im calm like a bomb
  Theres a mass without roofs, a prison to fill
  A country’s soul that reads post no bills
  A strike and a line of cops outside of the mill
  A right to obey and a right to kill
  A mass without roofs, a prison to fill
  A countrys soul that reads post no bills
  A strike and a line of cops outside of the mill
  A right to obey and a right to kill