The hunters are here, straight killing-machines.
They're kicking and screaming and willingly killing, unwilling to bleed.
A hate-infested entrap- and then festivity-scene.
I guess we call of the search, thay out in the open indeed.
We ready for em though, stick to the theme so we won't see last years slaughter-winter repeat.
To reposess our land first hand, an inspirational contraband that's thicker than thieves.
There's pictures circulating of me and my goons and then it's highly debated and thereby setting the tune of a conflict and provocative message approved, and a surprisingly peaceful confrontation.
Yes, these are real explosives and yes, we are terrorists but we do feel emotions and we don't plot careless.
5-0 comes patrolling looking for evidence but these murdering fuckheads need to die!
You claim to my face that I can't lable you a killer ´til you're captured and charged so I start laughing so hard and then I'm strangeling ya'll.
This ain't no sanity call; you will get fucked up and buried you f-ing retards.
I'm usually calm but you got me angry with ya'll.
I put you in a box with the ones who had sex with a dog.
Riffles down, time to smite you now.
Put you're hands up and hand over the keys to your SUV cars.
I bet you find this a staggering charge, but it's the same persecution based on illusions you happily follow and I bet you recall how we now leave the scene looking like a scavenger-brawl.
