Feel the funk blast, feel the funk blast Feel the funk blast Feel the funk blast, feel the funk blast A yo yo yo, check it out I be walkin' God like a dog my narrative fearless Word war returns to burn like Baldwin home from Paris Like steel from a furnace, I was born landless Yes, it's the native son born of Zapata's guns Stroll through the shanties and the cities remains Same bodies buried hungry with different last names The vultures robbin' everything, leave nothing but chains Pick a point on the globe, the pictures the same There's a bank, there's a church, a myth and a hearse A mall and a loan, a child dead at birth, a widow pig parrot A rebel to tame, a white hooded judge, a syringe and a vein For 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? What you say, what you say, what you say, what? Calm like a bomb Calm like a bomb This ain't subliminal, feel the critical ma** approach horizon The pulse of the condemned sound off America's demise 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, with different last names The vultures robbin' everyone, leave nothing but chains Pick a point here at home, the pictures the same There's a field full of slaves, some corn and some debt There's a ditch full of bodies, the check for the rent There's a tap, the phone, the silence of stone The numb black screen 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? What you say, what you say, what you say, what? Calm like a bomb, calm like a bomb Calm like a bomb, calm like a bomb Calm like a bomb, calm like a bomb Calm like a bomb, calm like a bomb There's a ma** 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 There's a right to obey and a right to k** A ma** 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 There's a right to obey and a right to k**