Chopping lines in international sand,
Feeding blood junkie habits of the elephant man
Quench his thirst with black water rising,
Executive outcomes on a burning horizon
Yeah motherfucker, let's take a ride
We're rolling Route Irish, someone has got to die
Trick or treat, it's IEDs,
So roll the dice as we leave,
'Cause it's eight miles of pure luck
With more bang for Sam's buck
Guaran-fucking-teed, someone will bleed
Privatize to conceal all the lies,
Big business is booming like it's the Fourth of July
No need for all the formalities,
Jump the kangaroo courts
And plant the lynching trees
Yeah motherfucker, let's take a ride
Running red lights in a green zone,
Someone has got to die
Hidden aegis, nothing here to see,
So load the dice for me please
And let's snort the bottom line
Crude cashed into refined
Guaran-fucking-teed, just sign the deed
Guaran-fucking-teed, someone will bleed
Someone has got to die
Ours is not to reason why,
Ours is but to do if the pay rate's right
Black liquid assets, fuck the Mujahideen
Paint their picket fences red with the American dream
Lay the heavy hammer down, get the job done right
Jacked up and clocked in into a fire fight
Covert reactions and you never saw me
A glass parking lot in the American dream
They all die
Fucking Murder
Guaran-fucking-teed, someone will bleed
Guaran-fucking-teed
Lay the heavy hammer down, get the job done right
Jacked up and clocked in into a fire fight
Covert reactions and you never saw me
A glass parking lot in the American dream
Contractor Lyrics performed by Burn The Priest are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Contractor Lyrics performed by Burn The Priest is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD