P.O.W.'s - Sabac: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

P.O.W.'s

114

Hip-Hop

P.O.W.'s was released on January 1, 2005 by Psycho+Logical-Records as a part of the album Sabacolypse

Song Details

AlbumSabacolypse

Release DateJanuary 1, 2005

LabelPsycho+Logical-Records

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM85

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Sabac

Performer

ILL BILL

Performer

Necro

Performer

Mr. Hyde

Performer

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Sabac

Composer

Lyrics

Super-civil arrest blast your Teflon vest bastards

Hyde, distressed terrorist, the methodists of death bitch

Incorrect politically, linguistically I'm lethal

Yo check my history, it ain't no mystery to people

The governor of grit, I'll have your mother sucking dick

Fucking rubbing on her clit until she's bludgeoned by a brick

Yo to hell with secret service men, my burner stay disturbing them

They turn into my servants when my urgent says to murder them

All anarchists are loving it, while stubborn feds are bugging it

Your government's discovered, cut to pieces in my cupboard kid

I'll tarnish you with carnage, now your sergeant's paying homage

Got Bin Laden and Saddam wrapped in bondage in the garbage

My knife's out so stand back, the White House is ransacked

You strive out the anthrax, choke life out your grandpaps

The torture is immense, caught you crawling out your vents

The gore that Hyde invents, put dents in your defense

I'm like Malcolm when he came back from Mecca, not a racist

And when they come to kill me at my

Speech, I'll shoot 'em in their faces

I've lived a life of aggravation, contempt and lacerations

So I'm exempt from assassination attempts

Attack you like airborne pilots, beat you like General Cornwallis

You cornballs are minimal, adjust your eyelids private

Ending your squadron, run up on you like Benjamin Martin

With the Indian acts peeling your skin back for starting

I'll start a revolution with this rugged rhyme

But fuck The Source cover, I want my face on the cover of Time

You Benedict Arnold's will be smoking crack like bridges

We're burning bridges so you can't

Cross 'em 'cause our militia's vicious

The thirteen colonies bring it to you, get on the horse

We'll be ripping your chest 'til there's

Stitch in your flesh like Betsy Ross

Images of onslaught, cadavers and bleeding

I give a shout out to the soldiers that fought so I could have freedom

Back to war on the return trip, burning my psyche

Extracting the passion from the pores of Christ, it's pricey

Nuclear frost, California first to break off

Space cowboys, 30 CC's ready for take off

Lieutenant's tank, holding my rank, we climb skyports

Islamic amputees disguised as cyborgs

I was born to die, the first martyr

Torn from a place with burnt buildings and no father

Raise your etiquette of war face, fortunes to make, more to Kuwait

Grenades tossed, I threw the corpse in the lake, it's more cake

Revolution 9, New York quake, state of emergency

Bridges and tunnels, this underworld is a murder spree

Fucking with G, World Trade in the cloud

Terror network, I'm still smelling people downtown

Rice and teargas, the Yin and the Yang, dead in the fear

10 To 15, you'll watch the den of Heaven appear

They held me captive, I was being bludgeoned and starved

Seeing stars half a day from an introduction to God

There were scars on my flesh, my whole mind was destroyed

Hardest test of my life, the kind I try to avoid

I heard voices in my sleep, one night a visitor spoke

Quoting The Art of War, the voice had given me hope

Broke out of sweat, grabbed the TEC, shot my way to freedom

Hundreds die for their lives, and now I've got you beaten

I'm defeating any enemy that comes in my path

Whether political or criminal, I let the guns blast

Come with mass like Marcos, and Brooklyn's my Chiapas

Waging war against police, they can't look me in the optics

Sabac is equivalent to the object of militance

Consider this your option with your lots of ambivalence

I'm committed and diligent, equipped with the killer shit

The oppressor's nightmare, if I talk it I'm living it

I robbed at Auschwitz, I was tattooed with numbers for labor

Kids, babies and mothers were sent directly to gas chambers

Stepping out of freight cars sorted by age and profession

The weather and now you're capable of working the slave labor

Children and elderly people were the first to be taken

To shower rooms and exterminated then burnt to cremation

The rest of us kept behind an electric fence, shaved heads

Starving and working to death then perished by days end

Truthfully, we were the lucky ones, the fortunate

I remember stories of the ways that Doctor Mengele used to torture men

Children and pregnant women, unspeakable horrors

Six million martyrs from your Shiva to surgery with no anesthesia

I'm a prisoner of war and religion

A prisoner of Nazi Germany, I'm caught in the system

With dreams of torturing Hitler with blow torches and pistols

For every Jew that died, I survived, my story continues

Written by: Sabac

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