20,000 Gun Salute by Coup
20,000 Gun Salute lyrics
* Beavis and Butthead sample *
[Butthead] Whoa! Uh-heheh-heheh, uh-heheh
That kicked ASS!
[Beavis] Yeah yeah heh yeah
That was fly
* DJ Pam the Funkstress starts cuttin up "That was fly" *
Chorus: Boots (repeat 2X)
20,000 gun salute, get rowdy like you got a substitute
This slug's for Newt - shut your mouth, don't pollute
Army of down motherfuckers, shit we tryin to recruit!
[Boots]
See now we're talkin systematic, mack mechanics, decomposin
Chosen, representatives, from the ho's been known to act wit
pimp theatrics, a tactic necessary
In fact they wanna have us buyin from the commissary
This commentary's for my folks under involuntary servitude
Cause bosses don't be servin you your monetary
Pervin you like rum'n'dairy pulsin through your capillaries
Some inherit green, the rest just get our folks to bury
I'm abolitionary, wishin the judiciary
say this year for merry merry, free the penitentiary!
Peoples gon' rumble as long as stomachs grumble
and crack pipes tumble over asphault that's crumbled
Hundreds come in bundles and, hop is mixed with funnels
Cause babies wit shoes too small gon' stumble
This composition is sedition, opposition to the rulin class
Wishin they could detonate us hooked to the ignition
Keep my slacks creased to punch the clock for the beast
As my rent don't cease, his pockets get obese
Can't have inner peace without havin a piece
When the stepped on step up, we let the dragon release
Chorus
[Boots]
Disaster! The filthy rich bastards wanna milk yo' ass
faster, ask fuh, no salvation comin from the damn pastor
Old ladies play canasta, under roofs of cracker plaster
Little kids dive in the trash for discarded Dutchmasters
Dead potnahs on mural walls
Homeless kids takin baths up in gas station urinals
Shit the system can't cure it all
If everybody had a job then stock value's sure to fall
Hundred million neck slashes, so these facists
can make sho' that they check cashes, let's get massive
Wage struggle as direct classes, on just how we gonna
overthrow they bitch asses, give whiplashes
from the force as we make it tight, and ignite
the flames of takin over daily life, make it a right
to have food, threads and homestead
and Pac Bell won't ever cut your phone dead -- we own it!
But these business that love payin minimum wage
ain't gon' let you take they shit unless you showin the gauge
And if you do it by yourself they gon' put you in a cage
If you in a rage, please meet me on the same page, with a
Chorus
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