歌词
All my rivals will see what I have in store
My gun
♪
I've been harboring fleets in this reservoir
Red sun
And this nation's about to explode
♪
Your disciples are riddled with metaphors
Well-hung
Better pony up and bring both your barrelfulls
Not one
As we release this unspeakable toll
♪
(Every grain of sand equals)
(All the stars and everyone)
♪
How's our mother to damn these contributors
With mud?
How will the man who made chemicals difficult
Shed blood?
How's our father supposed to be told?