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 but with different last names   The vultures robbin' everything, leave nothin' but chains   Pick a point on the globe, yes the picture's 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   There's a widow pig parrot, a rebel to tame   A white hooded judge, a syringe and a vein   And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard      What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?   What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?   What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?   What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?      We're calm like a bomb, we're calm like a bomb      This ain't subliminal, feel the critical mass approach horizon   The pulse of the condemned sound off America's demise   The anti-myth rhythm rock shocker, yes I spit fire   Hope lies in the smolderin' rubble of empires      Yes, back through the shanties and the cities remains   Same bodies buried hungry with different last names   The vultures robbin' everyone, leave nothin' but chains   Pick a point here at home, yes the picture's 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 that be feelin' like home   And the riot be the rhyme of the unheard      What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?   What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?   What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?   What ya say? What ya say? What ya say? What?      Calm like a bomb, we're calm like a bomb   Calm like a bomb, we're calm like a bomb      Calm like a bomb, we're calm like a bomb   Calm like a bomb, we're calm like a bomb   Calm like a bomb      There's a mass, a prison to fill   There's a country soul that reads post no bills   There's a strike and a line of cops outside of the mill   There's a right to obey and a right to kill      There's a mass without roofs, there's a prison to fill   There's a country soul that reads post no bills   There's a strike and a line of cops outside of the mill   'Cause there's a right to obey and there's the right to kill