Letras: Rage Against The Machine. March of Death.

(Rock and Roll music is the main weapon)
Check... 1, 2
Alright, watch this
I was born with the voice of a riot, a storm
Lightning the function, the form,
Far from the norm I wont follow like cattle I'm more like a catalyst
Calm in the mix of battle
Who let the cowboy on a saddle, he don't know a missile from a gavel,
Para terror troopin flippin loops of death upon innocent flesh, but I'm,
Back in the cipher my foes and friends with a verse and a pen against a line I won't toe or defend,
Instead I curse at the murderous men, in suits of professionals who act like animals
Man child, ruthless and wild,
Who gonna chain this beast back on the leash? This Texas furor for sure-a, compasionless con who serve a,
lethal needle to the poor the cure for, crime, is murder?
Well, I was born, voice of a riot, a storm
Lightning the function, the form,
Far from the norm I wont follow like cattle I'm more like a catalyst
Calm in the mix of battle
Who let the cowboy on a saddle, he don't know a missle from a gavel

On the Left, On the Left,left, right left
On the Left, On the Left,left, right left
On the Left, Uhh, On the Left, left, right

(OK, you're lookin' good, you might just move a little left,
just a little left, about 170)

I read the news today, oh boy, a snap shot of a midnight ploy
vexed and powerless, devoured by hours, I'm motionless with no rest

Cause a scream now holds the sky, under another high-tech drive-by
A lie is a lie is a God, an eagle is a condor of war, and nothing more
Islam peace, Islam stare into my eyes brother please off our knees
to beef now we feed their disease, interlocked our hands across seas
A flag is a rag is a shroud out loud, outside, a faceless crowd
A cowering child just took their last breath, one snare in the march of death.

Uhh, come on
Get up

On the Left, On the Left,left, right left
On the Left, On the Left,left, right left
On the Left, On the Left,left, right left
On the Left, Uhh, On the Left, left, right

Here it comes the sound of terror from above
he flex his Texas twisted tounge
the poor lined up to kill in desert slums
for oil that boil beneath the desert sun
Now we spit flame flip this game
All the targets are taking aim
All targets are taking aim
We're the targets are taking aim