Warmachines

Missiles, close enough to see model and make Haters gon' hate Watch my city like The Blind Sheikh Handle snakes at the wake You could tell he went to hell just look at his face Looking like the one that got away Survivor's guilt like runaway slave Dad's coffin in the house for two days Lenin lying in state Grab the gats, had a fucking parade Ticker tape on the graves Smoke like grease fire For pittance the guns was hired Good riddance Road block of burning tires, the plot thickens Delivered to hissing mob, appeal to distant God The sun flatten hard Captain Queeg came mutinous Black rain luminous, exhale sour cumulus Clench teeth, hold cigars, freshly rolled Stories told, lies all Cold, call, collect Silent auction His soul went unsold Not for lack of trying High horse road hard, metalless iron Precious as blood from tyrants, built to spill Instill men with the will to kill Your last meal served cold, now it's really real Mountain ranges capped with snow, at times, Guantanamo slow Mud hamlets in the valley bellow Dirt stones, boney goats, at night the whisper of ghosts Satellite phones, whirring drones My nigga gripped the toast Put 'em in the pit then we watch the fucking pendulum(x8)