Drop the Bombs

Here's the rules: flow is flow. No middle ground. This is war. Fuck
it. Bucket. I may be going to hell in a bucket, baby, but at least I'm
enjoying the ride. That's what I'm talking about: rules, parameters.
What I'm saying is that... 3 or 4 years from now, they're gonna miss
Jay-Z. It's been a long time since I've tasted fears. There was a time
when a night shriek was enough to make my my hair stand up on end. But
I've supped full with horrors. She should have died tommorow. There
would have been a time for such a word. Tommorow, tommorow and tommorow
lights our path to dusky deaths when all our yesterdays... it's all the
same. Bring on the mother-fucking ruckus. "Charlie don't surf." I'm a
revolution of one. I'm gonna be one of the few, the proud, the Marines.
I'm going to go to Iraq and kill me some sand-mans, put a few
notches on my oozi. The name's William Bonnie, better known as Billy
the Kid. There's many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. You can go to
hell, hell, hell. Goethe said that the only difference between a madman
and a genius is that the genius knows what he's saying. Well I know
what I'm saying; I'm gonna die with my eyes open. That's Biggie. "I had
a dream," I said. "About who?," he said, about Big I said, that's Big
he said. There is complete piece in pure, vaporized marijuana. There is
peace at Crater Lake. There is peace at Mount Shasta. There is peace in
Valhalla.. FTW. Represent. Fuck The World. Come on. Let's get it over
with. Drop the bombs. Yeah. That's right. Drop the bombs. Let's roll.
Let's meet our maker. No one gets out of here alive. Apocalypse Now.
"Remember, it's better to burn out than fade away." Last thing ever
Kurt Cobain wrote. What is this quintessence of dust? Drop the bombs.
The meaning of life is the number of notches on your tomahawk, spear or
M-1Elephant Gun. Or you could say that the meaning of life is pleasure
brought on by a tranquil life. Epicurus would say that. What I say is,
Let's kill all the crimminals. Let's put a shell in each little pothead
forehead. We're out to create the American race. Fuck the Yankee Doodle
SS. These people need Jesus in their life or I'm gonna have to put a
couple dozen desert eagles in their life. Good poets borrow, great
poets steal. Well, I steal everything I see; I fill up my garage. This
ain't no funky reggae party, five dollars at the door. I've got a cross
to bear, a peace-maker, a great civilizer of men, a sub-machine gun. I
am the Lorax, I speak for the trees, our founding fathers, and the
millions of Americans who died for our liberties. If Cali blew up, I'd
be in the aftermath. Drop the bombs.