Rage Against Machine Follow

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 mass 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 mass 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 kill

A mass 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 kill

Feel the funk blast
Feel the funk blast, feel the funk blast