(f/Tim Means)
[Hook] Deacon
There’s something about a vandal’s lust
The lifestyles of the scandalous
Ain’t nothing like it- America loves gangsters (ha ha ha ha)
Look at all the angel dust, the cocaine and the cannabis
Ain’t nothing like it- America loves gangsters (he he he)
Cuz it’s fun to watch cannon’s bust
Ain’t nothing like it- America loves gangsters (we We We We)
Gone off that Gangsta Gangsta X 2(for so long)
Gone off that Gangsta Gangsta X 2(and so on)
[Verse:1] Natti
America loves Gottis, America loves bodies
Pacino countin’ C-Notes for shootin up club lobbies
While Eddie Nash controls bankrolls in Wonderland
Tony Soprano hits channels and holds down On-Demand
We wanna see it and some muthafuckas gon’ wanna be it
Others are doing numbers that breed it, bleed it, can’t defeat it
Bush, the political gangster, man you gotta be high
Gave plenty of orders for slaughters ain’t swatted a fly
Modern day cowboys with shiny alloys for side arms
Hidin being bombs, advanced cowards
In Jesse James ways we handled the Towers
Guns blazin for freeze framing the King of New York
In the moments we face opponents give thanks to ‘gangsta’
Maybe place Babyface Nelson in ranks to bank ya
Got enough angst to handle the handle and squeeze trigga
But pop that in the city its ‘Freeze nigga!!’
[Hook]
[Verse:2] Deacon
A-scare-ica lusts danger, danger, danger
War, load the tanks up
In the name of the Lord give thanks for anger
More major paper in Gangsta Gangster
Heats nerves and veins hearing words from pranksters
Anger anchors us, cinematic screens spew
Wrangler language, systematic schemes too
Change the brain up, divide and conquer
Mob on em, ride till their lives are contra’d
Monsters, driven by capital as a stimuli
Can never be too powerful, it makes us all admire you
We’ll follow until we fall like fallen star from sky, I
Can’t say it’s impact hasn’t hollowed walls inside my
Heart, my art, ummmm insane
Is it that smart to react dark when facin’ pain?
You ain’t that hard, that scarred or that real
To go that far, for that kill, for that feel, now that’s ill
Tim Means
It’s 6pm again
And I’m tuning into CNN watchin marines mow down crowds with machine guns
16 weeks training, Attila the Huns philosophies
And now they’re thinking we won’t bring peace to these
Streets with the same techniques that shit’s hypocrisy
This ain’t democracy it’s a Survival of the Fittest
A country built behind closed doors with God as their witness, picture this
People can become so blind that their ears can’t listen
Trying to save their souls with penitentiareligion
Superstition, never done unto others
But claiming that they’re Christian
While God’s children are sittin home praying and wishing
For answers to their questions
Herd of the Armageddon,
Wondering what side that we’re destined
Life be a war ain’t no time for restin
That’s why you give up your seven to five, just to stay alive
Trying to fuel the fire inside before the God in me has died
Eyes, wide, tyring to look out through his labyrinth
Hoping to leave this earth with the same presence
That we came with
Trying to steer my path in opposite directions
That man came went
My soul came in, spent, I tried to get it back
Thinking that if my heart stopped that my body could relax
But theirs no time to be laxed
Because there’s a war all through creation
God’s warriors is dying and gangsters is their replacement