Lyrics

Shut up if you want to get paid. What's your option? Cold corruption or starvation Buckets for bullet wounds There are no doctors, only victims, only butchers Find a place to put your hope in See how they open up the gates For those who push them over Uh oh, the cold composure I'm not afraid to die tonight, I'm not afraid to... Here's a joke you might not laugh at: All the poorest work the hardest for the smallest Do what you got to do There are no handshakes Only handguns only earthquakes Buckets for bullet wounds There are no churches only prisons only senators Find a place to put your hope in See how they open up the gates For those who push them over Uh oh, the cold composure I'm not afraid to die tonight, I'm not afraid to... Oh, Composure Oh, Composure Oh, Composure The wolf that comes to many homes these days Just had pups in my kitchen I sold them, and here is the money Oh Yeah!
Writer(s): Aaron James Babcock, Timothy Ryan Skipper, Colin Mark Rigsby Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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