Letra de 73%
The eyes in this town follow me around like I’m the one that stole
Their name
What the F*** you think you’re
Their name
What the F*** you think you’re
Looking at now?
I’m not the one to blame
It was your mans
Who sold your soul
Sold your country
Sold your company
For seventy-three cents
We paid the price
You laid the dime
He did the crime
Now we got millions incapacitated
He ain’t been seen in public since
Walking around
Find yourself in the Bowery
You don’t know where you’re going
Don’t know what to do
The smell of piss is the same
But s**t is different
There’s no more Country
Bluegrass
No more Blues
And nothing left to lose
But don’t look back
Get ready for that
Ill attack now
They die off and then come back to life
Count their numbers then
They multiply
Up in smoke
Just like a ghost
Out in these gold-plated streets
Don’t see no prophets here
But just like Jeremiah
We’ll disappear
Yeah we’ll all vanish completely
Don’t get it twisted now
Most folk outside the city want you gone too
Shhh...
And they comin’ soon
Strewn along
Broken signs along the interstate
You they all hail ‘cause it’s getting closer
Calling for Repentance or Hell
With no Redemption at all
Throw the new American flag
Over the old one
You all hail ‘cause it’s getting closer
Something tells me it’s not the first thing that you hanged in your yard
Hail hail the Dredge of the angels
Hail hail the prize of the swine
You’re waiting to get got ‘cause they got you fat and laid out
Spinning on a spit with the fruit of knowledge gagging your mouth
They die off and then come back to life
Count their numbers then
They multiply
They die off
They come back to life
Count their numbers then they multiply
I’m not the one to blame
It was your mans
Who sold your soul
Sold your country
Sold your company
For seventy-three cents
We paid the price
You laid the dime
He did the crime
Now we got millions incapacitated
He ain’t been seen in public since
Walking around
Find yourself in the Bowery
You don’t know where you’re going
Don’t know what to do
The smell of piss is the same
But s**t is different
There’s no more Country
Bluegrass
No more Blues
And nothing left to lose
But don’t look back
Get ready for that
Ill attack now
They die off and then come back to life
Count their numbers then
They multiply
Up in smoke
Just like a ghost
Out in these gold-plated streets
Don’t see no prophets here
But just like Jeremiah
We’ll disappear
Yeah we’ll all vanish completely
Don’t get it twisted now
Most folk outside the city want you gone too
Shhh...
And they comin’ soon
Strewn along
Broken signs along the interstate
You they all hail ‘cause it’s getting closer
Calling for Repentance or Hell
With no Redemption at all
Throw the new American flag
Over the old one
You all hail ‘cause it’s getting closer
Something tells me it’s not the first thing that you hanged in your yard
Hail hail the Dredge of the angels
Hail hail the prize of the swine
You’re waiting to get got ‘cause they got you fat and laid out
Spinning on a spit with the fruit of knowledge gagging your mouth
They die off and then come back to life
Count their numbers then
They multiply
They die off
They come back to life
Count their numbers then they multiply
