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1. Running [1:27]
This time we hit the ground running and the lyrics are stunning 'cuz MCs are rerunning, like Linus's brother. Word to your mother, CEOs get smothered. One hand washes the other, dust the bites one another. I wreck what you expect, keep TNCs in check; so protect your neck. Now I'm ready for battle, no sugar coat like Fiddle Faddle. Gotta give a shout out to all my people in Seattle. Marching through the streets like a human bulldozer -- WTO means We Took Over!

Still nonviolent, but I got the feeling for the peeling of a cap when I see police beating people back. Using tear gas and pepper spray, can't hear what we gotta say? Well, hey hey hey! Take us out and lock away? Ha! We'll have twice as many back again the next day. The repressive state apparatus is obscene. The consequences of dissent? Just ask my man Gene. Flashbacks to '68 -- ain't no freaking blank slate, going up against the Great White State. As a new generation learns its lessons, keep the corporations guessing with nonviolent aggression. Here today, gone tomorrow; but I focus on action, not on sorrow. Better wake up and recognize: Don't mourn, motherfuckers -- organize!

Bring the ruckus, bring the motherfucking ruckus! 'Cuz every time I turn around, there's someone trying to fuck us. So where you at? What you want? Who you reprazent? Are you down to cause some problems for the president? Lock yourself down, hang a sign or spread the word. If what you hear's absurd, then fuck what you heard and get the real story from one who shoots for more than glory. I make the IMF worry, so what's your hurry? Sit down and let me take your coat. It's like I rock the boat when I read the rhymes I wrote. So pay attention -- everything ain't what it seems. Or maybe it is, and life is but a dream...

2. The Dream [1:51]
I gotta wake up way too early for my own good, and dream about going back to sleep if I could. I got bleary red eyes from late-night caffeine highs. Time flies when I'm dreaming of blue skies. Gotta raise up, come up, gotta get up, 'cuz the structure of global capitalism is a setup. Behind the 8 ball, we gotta have the gall to call 'em all out, no doubt, or like ashes the masses will all fall down for the crown of the new aristocracy. I guess I heard wrong when I heard this was democracy: Of the wealthy, by the business, for the corporations. And hella complications for the rest of the population. But I'm a rebel, so I rebel, as you can tell -- yell like hell and boycott Shell, from the ivory tower to a jail cell. If I was Jessica, you betcha I'd be writing letters down in that well.

No rest for the resistance, there's too much distance left to be run before this war is won. Battles: some we win, and most we lose. But if this fight's not yours, then it is whose? If it's not now, then it is when? What do you mean, "never again"? Children, women and men are suffering everywhere around you -- evil surrounds you. But the underground has found you. So get up, stand up. Stand up for your rights. The average squandered life has 20,000 wasted nights. Without struggle, there is no progress. It's a painfully slow process, yes. But I digress. Yields are few and far between, results are seldom seen, our opponents have the green, and the crimes are obscene. But organization is the salvation of civilization and a sure cure for alienation. Late to bed, early to rise is how the revolution grows, expands and multiplies.

3. Raising Storms [3:25]
Yippee-kii-yii, I spy a guy from Delta Chi in the scope, and I hope he's on dope. No lie, nope. You think it's over? Red rover, send a four-leaf clover -- these devils gonna need it. Last warning, didn't heed it. So now the urge to bleed it, gotta feed it. NOW: We're not defeated. You need to read it 'cuz I wrote it, and journalists have noted: Rod Smith not with the fifth -- or any other -- movement. Who's got clues on where the groove went? Better recognize and use those sunken eyes, or we got a surprise. Check it: Organize and mobilize. It's the Devil in Black on point like a laser. I'm a twisted firestarter, I'm the stormraiser.

Rain, rain, come this way. We could use a storm today.

See, I'm not the weak freak that your devil ass seek. I'll bring doom to a room full of Greek geeks, twice a week. I don't give a fuck about your Men Club, bub. I rock it raw and hardcore like my name was Dr. Dub or Mad Professor. From the cupboard to the dresser, body slam you like a bench presser, make you say "Yessir." You can keep your sexist shit, I ain't with it one bit. I spit grit on beats that hit and make your sides split. Add a touch of wit to the style that I exhibit; steel toe you in your frog legs and make you say "Ribbit." It's the Devil in Black spinning tracks like Steve Mazur. I'm a race traitor, I'm a feminazi, I'm a stormraiser.

Rain, rain, come this way. We could use a storm today.

And just when you think it's safe to turn the radio back on, here comes some news about Sigma Alpha Epsilon. Here we go again -- will this madness ever end? Are you sure that he's your friend? He's a disgrace to all men! Drop a drug in a drink so the girl can't even think. Try to make your escape, but dead men don't rape. No, wait. "Eye for an eye" just makes us all blind. But these devils drive me crazy, I'm going out of my mind! What can I do with all the hatred that I have for you? I wanna ring down the curtain on your whole damn crew. But I want a real solution, so the answer's revolutionary death to male supremacy from Canada to Tennessee. It's the Devil in Black, yo Jack, got my phaser set on stun. You better run 'cuz I'm the stormraiser.

4. Diall O For Oppression [4:12]
This whole world makes me fucking sick to the gills. Justice is blind drunk, and Uncle Sam's popping pills. The cops blast on Amadou, let's see what your honor do. Watch the verdict on TV, now what you wanna do? Not guilty? Are you kidding? Is this a fucking joke? How many black folks gotta croak as they choke on gunsmoke? Trigger-happy cops make bodies drop around the clock; devils got the nerve to say, "They just protect and serve." No justice, no peace. No more killer police. No more silence for the violence in the belly of the beast. How many times we gotta say it? This system of sickness, it's time to Y2K it.

A black man gets shot in the back of the head, don't mean shit to the system, just another brother dead. The words of his mother's pain never got read. Suppose they took a day off and shot at us instead. Would we wake up? Act all nice and try to make up? Don't believe it, 'cuz the white man wrote the book on how to fake up. You think not? Ask my man Leonard P. and you'll learn a lesson about the devil in DC. Does the dirty work for the folks on top and watch the gats pop and bodies drop like it don't stop. And it won't stop until you redirect, keep the man in check and get your shit correct. Bill Gates don't give a fuck about you. This is your life we're talking about, so what you gonna do? Bombs droppin' all around, like Rza with that Wu sound. Ribonucleic -- display it for the Wayward, downtown. Rally you to this cause, make you come along. Ain't it amazing that the home invasion comes from a rap song. Fill your mind with propaganda: No justice, no peace! Wanna beat the crap outta Jeb like he was Ed Meese. The spawn of Satan, it's Jeb and George W. Gotta pop your bubble, you boys are in trouble. You push the policy that gets the world hissing. Don't ask "Why me?" It's 'cuz you don't listen! White washing One Florida 666 times, he don't hear the rhythm rumble coming through in the rhymes. Crimes on the street can't compete with the heat he designs. Devil, read between the lines. What can you find if you're blind or one step behind? Take two forward, take one step back. 'Cuz the CIA pushes crack and makes your neck snap. Pow! Boom! Biff! Rat-a-tat-tat! Now you're shit outta luck like you crossed a black cat. Power may grow from the barrel of a gat, but they got the tear gas and bombs and tanks, got that?

I came to bring the pain like my name was Meth Tical, so open the pod bay doors, HAL. Knock, knock. Ring, ring. We came to overthrow the king. Cider in the freezer, throw a party in the west wing. Bringing truth to power, like "It's true, we're gonna take it now." Keep 'em guessing which direction, make 'em wonder how. Make you bow when we blast the door and splinter wood, make you give up the dough the way you know you should. We're like the big, bad wolf in your neighborhood. For you, meaning bad. For the world, meaning good. Good gravy, we keep it wavy like Jerry and Ben. Got a spot for Clinton in the State Pen for bombing the Sudan in a civilian institution, breaking international law and circumventing the constitution. It's high-stakes prostitution. The Fortune 500's the pimp. Let's can their ass like Bubba Gump shrimp.

5. The Freaks Come Out At Night [02:35]
© 1984 by Jalil Hutchins and Larry Smith. Much respect to Whodini.

6. Right Off The Funkometer [2:33]
Jump back in the place! Yep, it's MC Ep all in your face, causing trouble with the treble and a side dish of bass. Not crack, but a track that cause heart attacks. From the front to the back, it's the Devil in Black. Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. I kick facts that make the WTO fear me. Get near me and cheer me on. I mix brains and brawn on the mic, devils be like psyched out. Did you hear the news on the radio? They said to calm down, but that ain't the way to go. Check this flow like a river, and put some clothes on. Big Brother's watching like Sliver. I deliver like Papa John's. Mix a beat and drop a bomb. Congregation, open your bibles to Psalm 69. Let's try it one more time. Check the truth in the rhythm and the rumble in the rhyme. Who's the devil causing static in the Sunshine State? I'm gonna let you know why we can't wait. It's the making of a white revolutionary. I'll make your hair stand up like There's Something About Mary. Mary, why you buggin'? Getting silly with the pizza? Oh, you're down with hip hop? Pleased to meet ya. Take a seat, come in dear boy, have a cigar. It ain't where you're from, it's where you are. Where you at, or I think it goes something like that. Hey, you people taking notes -- why don't you read that back? We mean no harm to your planet, but Van Damme it, there's a poison going on and we can't stand it. It's heinous, heinous, but you're acting like you haven't seen us. So now it's Bobbitt time, we gotta chop off your head. We got no bread and you can bet you'll be like Marie Antoinette when you meet our set. 'Cuz we're getting sick of cake and your government's fake. You wanna make us all slaves to the will of the Dow. Well, dhow about that? It's revolution time. I'll show you how. Step one, you gotta start with how you want things to be. Do you just want everybody feeling sorry for thee? Or do you want some real change, and get some real power? And quit selling your soul for six bucks an hour. Step two, know your enemy. Who's on the other team? And don't believe the hype from the TV screen. Like if you're white, it's the blacks, if you're black it's the Latinos. Ruling class got you running windsprints like they was Rick Pitino. Step three, get that 411, G. 'Cuz you don't know shit if you don't know history. Do you know about East Timor? All the reasons for the Civil War? Corporate interests behind Al Gore? How those 40s get to your store? Can't be a pro if you only act like you know. Devil, you're letting your horns and pitchfork show. So there it is, there's your first three lessons. This revolution session was brought to you by Wesson. We now return you to your regularly scheduled episode of The Simpsons.

7. Worst Remix Ever [1:31]
All hail Matt Groening.

8. I Lost My Bowling Ball in Watsonville [5:43]
Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale of how I spent my summer vacation. The International Federation for East Timor was looking for someone with skills and dedication; so I packed up the car and I hit the road. The beats were cold kickin' and the Mountain Dew flowed. Made it to Nashville by the end of the first day; chilled with the Guys and heard David play. Woke up kinda early and rode into the west, hit Lincoln, Nebraska and got rest. Next morning kept moving on the maze of superhighways. Racin' like Jason, crossed the country in four days. Crashed up in Berkeley, kicked it with the tadpole kids, got lost in 'Frisco on that one-way street grid. Broke out for Watsonville on Highway One. Getting close to my destination, driving into the setting sun.

Anyway, I hit the spot and set up shop. We set straight to work, 'cuz Timor was getting hot. Pam and Curt welcomed me into their house, gave me a desk, said "You can sleep on the couch." We reviewed applications and spread information, conducted interviews and reported the news. Stayed up late at night to set up the website, four hundred emails coming my way every day. We went to Steve and Jean's house once a week -- ding dong! -- we ate dinner and listened to Lydia sing the moose song. Next thing I know, Pam was getting on a plane, heading back to Timor to try and stop the bloody reign. But things went from bad to worse as the vote approached. Militias tried to crush democracy like a roach. But the people weren't having it, and 98 percent were like straight "Fuck you" and to the polls they went. But the results were announced and the bloodbath began, and every government in the world refused to take a stand. IFET had to leave the island, had to get off it, 'cuz the U.S. only cares about its fucking corporate profits.

I bring rhymes that blind and bind minds of the asinine. Start class and blast fast caps on Alatas. Wiranto: Military muscle head honcho. I'm bringing heat to Jakarta from Toronto and San Francisco, Chicago, Boston and D.C. You can't be the G that wipes out the E.T. They're free. We're climbing fences and bringing friction to your senses, so you best to back up, and that's a real consensus. Raping and drugging, killing and threatening the Timorese, making 'em kill each other, bring the people to their knees. But this ain't 75 and we know it's not a civil war; just blood and gore that TNI is responsible for.

Sandy Berger -- I'm gonna make some Berger patties with rat-a-tatties 'cuz Timor kids ain't got no daddies 'cuz your pockets deep I'm on the creep 'cuz you're just a sheep; peep for Jeep, it's so cheap, I can't sleep! Visions of heads on stakes keeping me awake. I'm not straight, it's fake, my sanity's about to break. You don't want to rock the boat, keep corporate interests afloat. There's no hope -- TNI cuts throats while Belo prays to the pope and the CIA pushes dope. I can't cope, I wanna see Kissinger hanging from a rope! Don't tell me that you're concerned, effigies are gonna burn. And when we're able and stable, then the tables are gonna turn.

Lord almighty! Things kinda stabilized and I said "Alrighty. Looks like it's time for me to head back, y'all." Whattya know? I can't find my bowling ball. What the hell happened to it? I guess it's just gone. Gotta let go and move on. Stayed with Nadiezdha in Santa Rosa, CA and broke out for Vegas the next day. Stayed with Michael, Manny and Ruthie for a couple of nights, found myself staring at some pretty absurd sights. Dipped down to Phoenix and the vibe was cool. Stayed overnight and went with Jesse to school. Took off for Tucson, crashed with Julie and Matt, took a picture of Jim Moore wearing a cat. Then I ride through the desert on a horse with no name, stayed with Paul Dean in Austin and spit game. Saw "American Beauty," and started the last leg of the tour. Been driving seven days, only got two more. My computer got damaged -- what a fucking pain -- 'cuz I had it in the car while I was driving through the rain. Stayed in Pensacola, just one more day to do. I'm on my way Home Sweet Home like I was Motley Crüe. Pulled into Gainesville about a quarter to eleven, unpacked the car and called Evil Evan. He said "What's the time?" I said "It's time to get ill, 'cuz I lost my bowling ball in Watsonville."

9. Convergence [3:03]
Time for some action.

10. Four Wasted Years [3:11]
Uh.. Well, I'm a business grad, but I didn't learn jack. Everything I got from college, you can fit in my buttcrack. I did just enough to keep from dropping out, 'cuz getting that degree's the only thing I'm talking about. Then I'm off to get a job, and get fucking paid, so I can buy a Porsche and a house with a maid. I don't wanna know about what's going on in the world. My life revolves around drinking beer and meeting girls. I could read some books and try to find out who I am, but to tell you the truth, I don't really give a damn. I'm content with the way things are, and that's fine. My uncle can hook me up with a job in no time. Meanwhile, I'll just keep living every day like it doesn't even matter if I piss it all away: Drunk every night with a beer in both hands, trying to fuck everything with mammary glands.

Get the fuck away from me with that petition, you hippie. I don't care if your name's Opus or Sparky or Zippy. I'm not signing shit; I won't even read it. 'Cuz if it's not a way to get off, I don't need it. The corporate machine will handle everything for me, and make my life worry-free until I'm seventy-three. All that union organizing and environmental crap, that's got nothing to do with me, I don't care about that. 'Cuz the name of the game is Kill or Be Killed. It's a dog eat dog world, bet your ass I will. Having a conscience is a liability. Our shareholders are my one responsibility. Making a killing is my only real craft, and I don't care if the janitors get the Night Shaft. Don't make me laugh.

Let's go down to Hooter's and pick up some wings, and I'll slip a roofie to a sexy young thing so I can hit it and quit it, and make my escape before she has a chance to call it rape. Sexual conquest is what makes you a man, and I've had more broads than soda cans. See, I can play the game, and act kinda smart. I got it by reading magazines at Wal-Mart. I don't have a library card, I'm not registered to vote. And I've never done anything worthy of note. But my parents are proud of me, because I graduated. They don't seem to mind that I'm not real educated. As long as I get married, and have a couple of kids, then everyone forgets about the stuff I never did. And how will I feel when I'm at death's door, looking back on my life, and wishing I'd done more, and not treated every woman I met like a whore? Shit, that's what Viagra's for.

11. Rock The House Y2K [2:07]
Much love to the whole Collective.

12. Demons On The Track [2:14]
Straight outta Gainesville with that funky blues shit, it's the Devil in Black, back with another hit. Sit your ass down and check the Demons sound, coming at you live from Common Grounds. We're pounding Jack D and we're getting tanked up; microphone checka and the amps are cranked up. Let's make some fuckin' noise for the girls and the boys, for all the people in the house, from the Jews to the Goys. I came to represent, so throw your hands in the air. I cut the record up like Congress cuts welfare. Fire and rage makes me take to the stage; make your brain engage so we're on the same page. I came to get live, so we gotta get hype. O positive on the keyboard, yeah, that's my blood type. We rock nonstop like bebop around the clock, make the jaws of jocks drop with true hip-hop. Not Eminem, more like TNT, and we let the beat go at the count of three. It's the conscious cracker cold kickin' up a storm with my boys in the suits and we're just getting warm.

Now what were you expecting when my voice starts projecting? Are your eardrums rejecting the sound that I'm injecting? No way, fat chance. We're here to make you dance, and drop a little science to make your mind advance. It's not a ripoff, it's a fucking tribute, yo. 'Cuz we're just honky cracker devils, yeah, we know. But that don't mean we can't rip up the show. If you say "No go," hit the do', really tho. 'Cuz your mental process is a little bit slow -- the Demons got soul and I can kick the rhyme flow. So bacdafucup before we flipdafucout! We're all the way live to make you scream and shout. Feeling and funk is what we're all about, and we're not your average white boys, there ain't no doubt. I'm always keeping it real with the rhymes I bust, and nonbelievers can eat my dust.

13. The Project At Hand [2:27]
The project at hand is a radical reassessment and redefinition of essential components of individual identity, fundamentally rejecting ancient and illegitimate ideological rigidities, willful informational ignorance, and authoritarian tendencies. Divisive, self-interested factionalism is to be rejected in favor of a community-based ethic stressing solidarity, compassion, and conscience. Conscious decisions are to be made within democratic structures to coordinate all institutions: political, social, and economic. Chronic cycles of dominance, violence, oppression and repression are to be recognized as unacceptable barriers, not only to specific personal progress, but also the advancement of human civilization. The internalization of racism, sexism, homophobia, and other social diseases is to be acknowledged as automatic, and thereby regarded as a viral form of societal dysfunction, to be resisted at all times. Greed is to be abolished. Permanent delusional escapism is to be nullified in its myriad forms, from fundamentalist religious zealotry to passive consumption of entertainment specatcle. Manifestations of individual alienation are to be expected, but viewed as unhealthy. Ergo, an extended, deliberate transformation must take place whereby ideals of individualism are balanced by those of interconnectedness. Careless vagaries of language are to be jettisoned and replaced by a careful understanding of its power and complexity. Above all, an awareness of and engagement with the world is to be fostered within each individual. Only then can we break free from the pervasive collective mental sludge in which we are now drowning. Think about it.

14. The Economy, It's Stupid [3:03]
I got thick bass beats for a basshead nation living in the shadows of the corporations. If you slave and save, you too can middle-manage while the Fortune 500 does damage. Every day the Dow Jones sets a new record high, and people gotta work two jobs to get by. Something's very wrong with the world today, but you can't fade me, I know how the game is played. It goes: Everything for you, and nothing for the rest. Will you wake up before you take two to the chest? To the Paris Club, WTO and IMF: I'm gonna break you off something 'til there ain't nothing left.

The beat maintains to infect your brain, 'cuz ain't nothing gonna change if we don't bring the pain. They sip champagne and we get stuck in the rain. They make profit gains while we go down the drain: Cut OSHA, cut food stamps, cut welfare. Did the Democrats sell us out? You say "Hell yeah." They wanna get paid just like everyone else, 'cuz money talks and blood sells. Push the crack on the black and the guns on the kids, then step back and say "Look what they did!" Try to get some answers from the big news biz, and all you hear is how great everything is.

So what's the real deal? Is it me? Am I nuts? Do the poor people just need to get off their butts? Don't believe the hype -- that's what the problem isn't. It's the failures of global capitalism. Making farmers in the "Third World" grow cash crops; when the people resist, they just call in the cops. Crack a few skulls and a body drops, and like that, all the unrest stops. Meanwhile, back at home, all the industry's gone. You can either flip burgers or mow someone's lawn. The rich break away so they don't have to pay for education and public transportation. Homeless pile up next to uncollected trash and everyone's just trying to get that cash. This whole damn system's giving me a rash. How much longer 'til the market crash?

And everywhere you look, there's a new breed of crook, trying to make sure every cent of your paycheck is took. Drink this beer! Smoke that blunt! Look at all the expensive stuff you want! Manufactured desires by admen for hire, making sure you got nothing left when you retire. Try to organize a union and you might get fired; you never know who's got the COINTELPRO wire. But we keep keepin' on, keep rallying the troops, and organizing people into activist groups. The powers that be tell us to cease and desist, but we continue to refuse and resist.

15. Zombie [3:18]
81 channels and there's nothing on, but I don't mind, because my brainwaves are gone. I just tune in for the entertainment spectacle; at this point, my mind is just a receptacle. I want to know details of Hollywood lives, and watch guys on COPS who beat their wives, and tune into Jerry for a little T&A and see star-crossed lovers have a melée. When I wanna feel smart, Nightline's what I choose. It's the Mickey Mouse version of in-depth news. It's like the more I watch, the less I understand. So it just makes sense to keep my head in the sand. Come home from work, pour myself a drink. Well turn something on, I'm starting to think!

And every time I go out, I buy another crappy piece of junk so I can pretend I'm happy. Whether I need it or not, every day I'm consuming, 'cuz spending money is what makes you human. I'm heavily in debt, but I've got a lotta clothes, and every day my Beanie Baby collection grows. I red now and then, but it's just to get away from the dreary life I have to live every day. I watch a lot of movies with explosive car chases and tune in every week for the NASCAR races. I'll buy anything that advertises with sex, 'cuz Typical Male is how I sign my checks. Sometimes it feels like someone's drilling in my head and trying to control every word that gets said, 'til I'm drooling like a dog that wants to get fed and my capacity to think is dead. Oh well, it doesn't matter. Let's just watch TV and I can pay attention to something more interesting than me. We can watch 20/20 for our daily dose of fear. Hey, isn't this an election year?

16. Yeah Like That's Right [3:04]
Jump kick in your faces with suspended animation like the Matrix as we begin this trepanation. Hole in your head like a tongue stud; this bud's for your mother, so we spark it undercover. Hover like crafts and stand tall like giraffes; flick the Bic and hit quick like Javascript. Paid for the tip, but the FBI's hip. They crack the whip and pop clips for loose lips. Ship full of fools with a box full of tools and a monkey wrench; cut the voltage to the fence. We're in -- let the sin and straight gin begin! Drop a beat so sweet, it'll make your head swim.

The firing of neural transmitters makes the brain glow, while energy begins to flow. And I begin to have activity; hold me back before I cause a scene like nativity. The dogmas of culture have instituted a set of restraints. They can be faint, like a coat of paint. Or thick like a brick wall around us all. Quick, snuff the wick, it's making me sick. It's a false illusion, I can't bear to look. It's a trap like a knight setting on queen's rook. Shook like the Earth's crust on a fault line, while the bass kicks in 4/4 time.

Transmutations proceed to cause complications, like CIA counterinsurgent infiltrations. Destabilization is the main occupation of the powers that be, so you see me in 3-D with C4 coming out of the door, looking for the G-8 while I send dub plates to every state and overseas from Brazil to Kuwait, bringing sucker MCs to their knees. Devil, please back up. Your rhymes don't stack up. Every time you yack up, it just makes me crack up. Put the wack up and bust out the true hip-hop. Keep it going nonstop 'til we hit the top. Drop a rhythm that goes well with izm and kicks a little wisdom and puts the feeling in 'em and flows like when you're swimming and mix like men and women and gets the people grinning and it's only the beginning. You can't live without it, you're stupid if you doubt it. The house is kinda crowded, my vision is beclouded. Let's all get Guinness stouted, you know I gotta spout it. I see you gotta shout it 'cuz you know I'm bout it bout it.

17. The VA Hospital [2:01]
Thanks to Paul, Garrett, and Ernesto.

18. Get Down, Get Funky [3:29]
Oh, so you really wanna get down and rock 'n' roll, huh?

19. Fed Up [3:21]
I see a thin red line between love and hate, 'cuz you know I got love, but I fear the state. And what can you do when someone steps to you pledging allegiance to the red, white and blue? I don't feel like celebrating on the Fourth of July. Don't ask why; it's just flags and body bags when Uncle Sam lets out the dogs of war. I've seen him fuck up my people in East Timor. I can't take it anymore, the shit never quits. Blood of Third World workers in microchips. And Gary Graham strapped down, is Leonard P next? While the Wall Street roughnecks cash checks. I'm on deck with a set that's bound to snap necks of CEO fatcats holding us back. What's up, Jack? Babylon burns as the world turns. It's too much to swallow, heads will roll like Sleepy Hollow.

With sick Chromakey TV spots, hock spit and blood clots while you shut down the shops of mom and pops. Corporate greed and compassion fatigue; just twist the knife and make the loser bleed. Straight go for self and say "The hell with thy neighbor." Just concentrate on sex and folding paper. Indulgence now! Lose weight, ask me how! Bougie kids never weaned from sacred cows. I'm gonna self-destruct if I keep giving a fuck about all the poor schmucks who are down on their luck. In America, you care about you and you alone. Just watch TV and disconnect the phone. Do your best to ignore the starvation and war, the hipocrisy of U.S. foreign policy, check it. Expect it: That status quo shit? I wreck it. And we start the endgame like Samuel Beckett.

I've seen the greatest minds of my generation getting fucked up, and the just due of the greatest workers sucked up in a profit system so sick, you gotta listen. Yo, I've said it before: You gotta find out what you're missing. 'Cuz ABC and CNN don't even be worrying about the problems you've got, just gotta keep the ads hot. Sex sells, show the blood, money flow and race baiting. No background, just bite the sound. It's all about the ratings! War is peace, freedom is slavery. GNP is happiness and bloodlust is bravery. Up is down and black is white. Inside is out and day is night. Nothing's what it seems in American dreams, and I wake up every day to bloodshot screams. We've gotta take this fight club up a notch, and it's not just the quiet ones you've gotta watch.

20. Resistance Is Fertile [3:25]
I used to kick it with a devil named Nate. He had a friend named Jimmy who lived upstate. Jimmy was a student once, just like us. He was organizing people and kicking up dust. I learned the rules of the game, and why we gotta battle against the powers that be, from Miami to Seattle. Move back to Gainesville, and what do I see? Jimmy Schmidt's running shit up at the CMC. See, resistance is fertile and it grows like a fungus and change starts small, but it becomes humongous. You may never really know the full power of your deeds, but action gets spread out like sunflower seeds. So lick deez if your motto is "My mission doesn't matter." And all you status quo motherfuckers better scatter. 'Cuz there ain't no doubt the way we turn this mother out. We're gonna show you punks what real struggle's all about.

Everybody and their mother's got a different reason why fighting the power is pointless, and we shouldn't even try: "They got the game sewed up," and "The cops have all the guns." And "It's too much fucking work," and "I just wanna have some fun." Well, if that's the way we all felt, then nothing would ever change. That's why your slacker attitude's got me looking at you strange. Are you too lazy to help? Are you scared of revolution? Are you part of the problem? Or part of the solution? The whole world's falling apart -- what're you gonna do about it? You take your freedom for granted, but where would you be without i? All the struggles of your ancestors were fought on your behalf. So now that you're here, are you gonna turn your back and laugh? Or will you keep on keepin' on and join the army of down motherfuckers looking to set the record straight and overthrow this evil structure? We gotta tell those greedy corporate bloodsuckers to take a hike. I thought you knew: This is what democracy looks like!