...to the core  battle scarred & still standin'
 I'm workin' the technics  the newborn's abandoned
 Instead of demanding to clock a thousand just to
 Rock the house and shit  walk the miles in my shoes
 Kiss my ass in the middle  say pretty please
 And see for yourself that I should get fi'ty Gs
 Heads to bed over a thousand blown
 I got skills to satisfy until the cows come home
 Yet and still  getting dissed by dead presidents
 For as long as the random house is my residence
 Run down to the point where some say it's an eyesore
 But at sundown, the neighborhood will see some shit to die for
 Restoration of the classic spectacle and proud as hell
 'Cause we can all share in something more respectable
 Shouts out to those who voted "yes" in the comittee
 And acid in the face for those who want to treat the city
 Like a firing range... in the land of make-believe
 You're gonna suffocate when it's time for you to take a breather
 So drop the bomb that breaks the world in two pieces
 You'll see the bonfire kindled with the pages of your thesis
 Faces of the damned are seen in pictures
 To be burned in the square where they used to burn witches!
 The path is made with broken glass to crawl across
 All is lost... destination: HOLOCAUST