Piss On Your Grave Lyrics

Piss On Your Grave lyrics

(Chorus)
Uhhhh!!
I wanna piss on your grave!
make me feel
alright!
Yaa Yaa Yaa!!
(Repeat)
While you was eatin'
T-bone
steaks
in palatial estates,
ornate with gates that automate
so those
you hate could only spectate,
I was kissing my mate
through iron
grates
while the guards wait,
50 cent rate for making license
plates.
My papermate pen shakes
vibrates from 808 quakes
over
breaks
dug outta crates
that sag from weight
of the vinyl
plates...
girls work till they back ache
and their breasts con't
lactate
you're laughin' to the bank
smilin', showin' all your plaque
flakes
contesting, contesting 1,2,3
never shoulda been put in the
penitentiary
Boots from The Coup would like to say
I'll shove these
foodstamps down your throat
just to block your airway
and that's the fair
way 'cuz everyday
you're on a moola mission
military killin' millions 'til
you low on ammunition
bodies beyond recognition
twisted complex
positions
then their kids work in your factories
and die of
malnutrition
see your net profit stats
hold some murderous facts
but
if you listen to the news you mighta
heard it was blacks
you got us
herded in shacks
I got the pertinent tax
how 'bout the one for when I
bust my ass
and you relax
I'll hit your head wit an axe
play soccer
wit' your brain
to make it official
slice your jugular vein
still
writin' songs that my momma could sang
and if you feel some yellow drips on
your skull
it ain't rain.
(Chorus)
That bitch ass on the front of a
buck
never gave a fuck
he forced his black women slaves
to give him
dick sucks
and when he bust a nut
he'd laugh and cackle
let the
leather whip crackle
send 'em back to pick tobacco
shackled
wouldn't
give 'em nil
so his homies stacked bills
fought on flatland and
hill
to keep the british out the till, scrill
kept Washington dumpin' 'em
in ditches
so slave owning son of a bitches
could keep their
riches
which is how the war got funded
with two centuries of
juice
from Black slaves bodies
and the profits they produced
you could
deduce
that these men might win
fit right in
and make rights
then
just for rich white men
so they quit fightin'
and wrote up a
declaration
protective decoration
for their business operations
a
gorilla pimpin' nation, no freedom - just savage
now the whole world's
ravaged
from their hunger for the cabbage
Your fifth period history
teacher
tellin' lies like a tweeker
bump this song through the
speaker
watch they face get weaker
'less they righteous and they kickin'
the facts
they gon' smile cuz this shit is on wax
one thing I gots to
ask
George Washington down in hell can you see me?
I'm standin' on your
grave
and I'm finsta take a pee-pee!
Tour guide: Excuse me sir, did you
say you have to pee?
Boots: Nah, I said I love it here in D.C.
Tour
guide: Well, anyway folks, continuing on with the tour.
We're here at the
Arlington National Cemetary.
Behind all of you, right where the gentleman
with the afro is
standing,
is the grave of of America's first and
greatest hero, our first
president --
Pants unzipping
George
Washington
Piss hitting the ground
Ohh, uh-uhhhh.
Cameras
click
(Chorus)
Knock knock muthafucka, yes once again
I'll make you
pay for your sins
in the trunk o' your Benz
see youse an always
fitted
always acquitted
parasitic leech
cain't be burned off my
back
wit' no fiery speech
your hands is soft as a peach
cuz you ain't
never did work
been rich ever since
your daddy's dick went squirt
have
you ever hurt from your back?
ducked from rat-a-tat-tats?
seen your mama
on crack?
lived in a pontiac?
drank baby similac
so you could have
protein?
(just for enough energy
to hustle up some mo' green?)
I could
paint some mo' scenes
vergin' on the obscene
but I'd rather show up at
your palace
with a mob scene
I spoke to my accountant
who spoke to my
attorney
who counseled my financial advisor
on a gurney
it's about
fifty dollars
and that's almost like a sale
cuz it costs too damn
much
to let your rich ass inhale
true liberation ain't no word in the
head
I'm yellin' murder 'em dead
for some fish, steak and bread
you
pay me 10 g's a year,
I pay you fifteen million hun'ed???
Sorry, you just
ain't in the budget...
(Chorus)