Ich werde über die USA so richten wie es mir passt,denn diese "Regierung" richtet nach Belieben darüber wie,wo und wodurch ihr Traum vom modernen"VIP-Babylon"finanziert wird.
Ich zähle jetzt nicht alles auf was diese Blutsaugender weltweit anrichten,ich will es selbst nicht mehr lesen und der Beitrag ist schon traurig genug.^^
Man kann eine Land auch dadurch einschätzen,wie es arme und kranke behandelt.
Jetzt lasse ich einen Rapper über sein Land berichten,der zu den Millionen gehört,die man in Babylon über die Klinge springen lässt,Waffen und Drogen gibts genug für für diesen Krieg,dafür wird gesorgt.
;) :(Das ist die Wahrheit über die USA,die sich um die eigenen Leute Kümmern sollten und endlich den Afroamerikanern die Chance auf ein normales Leben garantiern müssen,erst dann dürfen sie von Freiheit reden,das ist eine Schande für dieses reiche Land.Die Interventionen im Irak,Afghanistan und Iran giessen nur noch mehr Benzin ins Feuer und fördern den Terrorismus nur,das kann bei einem Land die Katastrope auslöen.
Nas - My Country
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American born, American raised, American made
[Chorus: (2x)]
My country shitted on me (My country)
She wants to get rid of me (Naw, never)
Cause the things I seen (We know too much)
Cause the things I seen (We seen too much)
[Verse 1 (Nas)]
It was packed on the Ryker's bus
The tight cuffs is holdin' me shackled
The life of a thug caught in the devil's laso
On the streets I was invincible
Cowards would duck at a glimpse if they knew
What my pistol would do, a fuckin' killa
Mothers of dope fiend embarrassin' me
All in front of my friends
In the street smile with no teeth
I never knew daddy, heard he had a 72 caddy
Died in a robbery, can't remember him, was probably 3
Why didn't my folks just die in this society
Why wasn't I a child of a doctor, who left stocks for me
Two little brothers, two sisters, them shortiez gots to eat
Mother's a junkie, she twisted, so all they got is me
I'm the provider, with goals to do much better than my father
Whether through drugs sold, or holdin' revolvers
Blurry visions of dad holdin' me high
It comes to me slowly, the words he would cry
[Repeat Chorus]
[Verse 2 (Millenium Thug)]
It is I that step up
Me that don't give a fuck, you that foe, then it's all over soldier
Hummers and Range's through the desert
Fuck a 20 years, long as we got gas and we got water
Troopers lookin' for manslaughter
I gotta get back, for what they owe
Shoot'em in the back for the get back
Lead through shit bag, hold tie gag
Forget the life had, now we all rebels
Everything burnt down includin' the ghetto
We can see 4 miles the land its major rubble
And debris from the earth as we knew crumble
Yo you could see the sea
And the stars look closer to me
I'm a mad man, this is a real life movie Mad Max
S-K's, AK's max, ABR's spittin' and it ain't a rap
My mommy dearest pray for me hopin' I come back
But yo
[Repeat Chorus]
[Verse 3 (Nas + Millenium Thug)]
Yo, I'm sittin' behind these prison walls
I got this pen and pad wishin' on a visit, God
Brothers is here for homicide and yo, it's some for rape
Some brothers innocent, I pray that I could just escape
How is the war
And yo I'm wishin' I was in your shoes
Holdin' machine guns
Clean fun shootin' dudes with fatigues on
Anywhere is better than this
It's America's plan every color of man inherits the shit
Yo I'm startin to think it's all a scheme, nobody cares
I know the warden is readin' the scribe
[MT] But yo I swear, it's a billion dollar business
Courts, lawyers and jails
We all slaves in this business, I'm bout to rebel
[Verse 4 (Millenium Thug)]
There's not a bitch in sight
All block bench, all black gates
All gray fence, look who fucked it all up, Mr. President
I remember yesterday we was on the block gettin' bent
Now it's state of the art
I just saw the first dude I met here, his head came apart
What a bloody mess, a slug fest
I just buried 8 of mine, at night I hear grown men cryin'
You know I'm spittin' mine
I ain't goin' out here, we gotta win
Everytime I hear the wind I think a slug went in
I'm checkin' my chest, holdin' my head
Catchin' my breath, watchin' my back
Smokin' this grass, beatin' my dick, thinkin' of ass
I don't know what they broadcast, the news hash is fake
Everyday I'm feelin' like you, I wanna escape
And if y'all niggas feelin' like me, y'all niggas just say(just say)
[Repeat Chorus]
[Nas]
This goes out to Jake Rivera...
Revolutionary destroyed by his own country,just tryin to fight for whats real
This goes out to my nigga Malcom Alhazbalishibaz...
Just tryin to fight for whats real
This goes out to Martin...
All about peace and destroyed by his own country
This goes out to everybody in the whole world...
Just tryin to fight for whats real
To Petrish Lamoumba...
Just tryin to fight for whats real and destroyed by his own people
This goes out to my hood niggas...
Coming up every day just tryin to survive the only way we know how
But see we know too much now, and we seen too much now
So aint nothing goin stop us now
[fading]
My country....
My country....
My country....
My country....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6Q3bc45yEk[Verse 1 (Nas)]
Blessings in life to the children
They say life is like 5 days
Words of a old man with silver hair in his wheel chair
His eyes were bloody while describin' what lies before me
Said evil bitches and jealous men would try to destroy me
It occurred to me, this old nigga's words couldn't be realer
I'm on top now, slightest drama, I'll have ta kill ya
Cuz animals sence weakness, sharks smell blood in water
Ishmael, Moses and Job, moved a divine order
Shit is plastic material, havin' no life
I crash whips and leave it no matter the price
As long as I survive, coppin' the five
Circle the block where the beef's at
And park in front of my enemy's eyes
They see that it's war we life stealers
Hollow tip, lead busters there's no heaven or hell
Dead is dead, fuckers
And your soul is with God
Your mind keeps lurkin' to earth
Watchin' your own murder reoccur
[Chorus (Repeat 2X)]
For ever struggle, every strip, and every ghetto
For every nigga toned in the pain and heavy metal
For every child that's born
And every nigga gone
And for every brotha breathin'
Live to see another mornin'
[Verse 2 (Blitz)]
It's Blitz nigga the streets glory many die for me
Got knocked refused 3 to 9's, went to trial for me
Basically I'm just reality loaded with vast stories
Of lust, greed, and contempt no street is exempt
Extended clip shots hoods barricaded for 6 blocks
I sip shots, watchin' em hustlers pitch rocks
All you paintin' pictures of my pain
Illustrate the city in vain
Fallin' deep into the pits of the game
This is for the sickest state of mind
In these fatal times, vesh crimes
Nickel plated nine's and niggas for the dime
Hear the sounds of them baby's cry
Still I'm sayin' why do we reside
In the ghetto with a million ways to die
Stayin' high to relieve the pain
Breathin' in the game, exhalin'
Guilts and the shame, misery and strain
What the fuck will tomorrow bring
Look at anthrax, I stand back through
Hopin' I make it tomorrow
[Verse 3 (Nas)]
My skin is a art gallery, right
With paintings of crucifixes
Hopin' to save me from all the dangers in the music business
Was once a young gangsta hangin' with youth offenders
But since I tasted paper it started losin the friendships
Watchin' kids freeze in winters, they still poor
How could I tease them with Benz's and feel no remorse
Drivin' past them in the lively fashion, diamond colors clashin'
Red stones, blue stones, red bones and black ones
Fuck did I expect with bucket seats in a Lex
And spendin' time in Chuckie Cheese with Little Des
Got guns when I'm with my daughter
Hate to bring a violent aura in her presence
She knows what daddy taught her, it's lessons
Black princess it's a ugly world
I put my life up for yours, see I love that girl
Could you believe even my shadow's jealous
My skin is mad at my flesh, my flesh hates my own bones
My brain hates my heart, my heart makes the songs
Though my songs come from the Father
I'm lonely...
Hold me, it's gettin' darker
[repeat Chorus]
Solange ich sowas hören muss,bleibt die USA für mich eines der übelsten Länder der Welt,besonders wenn man auf die Idee kommen sollte mal wieder Mutter Theresa zu spielen um sich zu bereichern.
SPIEGEL+objektiver Journalismus bzgl. den USA=Mission Impossible.