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bond st. district - terror era lyrics
terror era by bond st. district
[intro]
[verse 1: eze jackson]
terror era, dead bodies stacking up in the ghetto like it’s bim gazi
friendly fire take a lot of soldiers out too, but they don’t get away with murder like the cops do
a cop does what he [?] from the news crew
if ya story ain’t in any nominated news
don’t shoot! heil hitler, demn isis, boko haram, charlie [?] stop when the terrorists, k!ll these people in paris
but murder millions overseas from king in the congolese
n-body gives a f-ck about no n-gg- sh-t
n-gg- sh-t he got a good job with benefits, and he ain’t messing no money over some n-gg- sh-t
they only can see what’ yall gave em’, and they reported a lie would die [?]
[verse 2: bond st. district]
heil cesar, freil buddha, fat jesus, king musa and the dirt farmer, the snake charmer what’s in common? no comment, where’s the proof?
no comment, no drama no drama, closed borders out to emb-ssy, twelve men testify against one enemy shrike free, power
[?] centipede, to post a ruler make the movie to a trilogy [?]
big spenders got the world lock, sh-ll shot pipe bombs blowers grounds pop
pen drops ground hear us in the happy meal, john east fabricated in the trade deal lips sealed
shipping jobs ain’t the problem folks, the problems, the working wages of the common folk
it’s dominos where while we in a spiderweb, need to extract the spinal fluid from the dying cell
we candyland, we trippin’ ecstasy and can’t feel can’t feel that’ yall feet blow off the trail
off the path, no rightnesses for working cl-ss
the dying m-ss watch the screen as the cameras flash
[verse 3: eze jackson]
terror era, dead bodies, i meditate with [?] like i’m rapping [?] couldn’t k!ll him with crack so hook him up with this xans, percs and molly tell him welcome to the party [?]
looking at the signs on a boarded up house, ‘vote for me please i’ve been running my mouth’
police k!lled the boy now the city a target for the media market
broadcast the heartless
welcome to reality the rich don’t sleep, i mean the bees don’t weep, i mean the bees quoted [?] bring the neighborhoods sweet, that sweet [?] of their feet and hold em’ for [?]
he still got a bullet that’s loged in, trump’d up charge’s, his fan fighting the hardest no charges for the squadron
i’ve been waiting outside for the march in [?]
[outro]
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