Kritikal
from Acts Of Humanity Vol. 1&2 by Junkyard Empire
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Compact Disc (CD) + Digital AlbumFor $10 post paid (US only) receive a physical CD along with some other surprise gifts from Junkyard Empire & MediaRoots.
Includes unlimited streaming of Acts Of Humanity Vol. 1&2 via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.ships out within 2 daysPurchasable with gift card$10 USD
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lyrics
A hostile brotha walked the block with a scowl on
Pants sagged, heat wave, no shirt with a towel on
8th grade summer school, though his mind is wonderful
The block testin him like “Nigga what you wanna do?”
Teachers stressin him like “Where is your number 2?”
He knows the material but ain’t tryna hear it though
Back row, head on his desk lookin pitiful
Can’t find a scenario where this shit’s useful
His pops laid off, no rent, cut the lights off
Vietnam vet, he was ill with the rifle
Now he stays quiet and he’s lookin kinda psycho
Mumbles to himself how he was used by the white folk
Can’t get a real job, can’t get a small loan, medical benefits all but gone
He and his son be singin the same song and it goes on and on…
Repetition, circling through past lives
Read your history, so we don’t let the past rise,
Kritikal thinking open your eyes to the vast lies
Or we’ll be living in the final days, last times
Brotha in Afghanistan, fights for the Taliban
His dad a Mujahedeen, fought for his homeland
Thirteen with an M-16, nightmares at night cold sweat with the scream
Sees the scene of his mother being blown to smithereens
Just six and witnessed the missile
Pieces of brain mixed with blood and soft tissue
Now he walks with a pistol and hate by the fistful
Lifetime of warfare, the picture getting more clear
The richer we getting here, the more their getting poor there
Five years later, young brotha didn’t graduate
Limited options, had to deal with the magistrate
Now he packs heavy weight, helmets fatigues
Standard issue boots, backpack, canteen
Red, white, and blue flag stitched at the seams
Infrared binoculars, checkin out the scene
Routine deployment, green Hum-V
Playing hopscotch with the IED’s
Rolled up on a gathering at quarter to three
A bunch of old heads, long beards no teeth
Call it intuition, he sensed something suspicious
Radioed for back-up, they was out of position
Ran for cover, flashbacks of his mother
Hoverin over his bed, pulled back on the covers
Sayin it’s all a trick, don’t enlist
The rich get all the money while the poor get shit
His chest heaving heavy as he fought for breath
Felt for his legs, but he had none left
Eyes opened wide but the sky was hazy
Goin out like this man I must be crazy
Can’t pay me enough and my girl got a baby
Life’s yes or no, no time for a maybe
Last thing he saw standin over his shoulder
Was the fierce gaze of an Afghani soldier
The moral of the story, what I’m sayin is true
Look in the mirror, the reflection ain’t you
Sent to kill with no soul like a zombie
Political pawns hypnotized so calmly
They don’t want you to hear this sentiment
Poor folks die while the rich ones benefit
Never forget who pays the price
And ask yourself, would they give they life?
When they send you to die all their wealth multiplies
Stock prices rise for every bomb that flies
Campaign funds for the next election
How come Congress ain’t have a recession?
Kritikal thought is the ability to question
Kritikal thought is the ability to question
Cause times are getting kritikal
Pants sagged, heat wave, no shirt with a towel on
8th grade summer school, though his mind is wonderful
The block testin him like “Nigga what you wanna do?”
Teachers stressin him like “Where is your number 2?”
He knows the material but ain’t tryna hear it though
Back row, head on his desk lookin pitiful
Can’t find a scenario where this shit’s useful
His pops laid off, no rent, cut the lights off
Vietnam vet, he was ill with the rifle
Now he stays quiet and he’s lookin kinda psycho
Mumbles to himself how he was used by the white folk
Can’t get a real job, can’t get a small loan, medical benefits all but gone
He and his son be singin the same song and it goes on and on…
Repetition, circling through past lives
Read your history, so we don’t let the past rise,
Kritikal thinking open your eyes to the vast lies
Or we’ll be living in the final days, last times
Brotha in Afghanistan, fights for the Taliban
His dad a Mujahedeen, fought for his homeland
Thirteen with an M-16, nightmares at night cold sweat with the scream
Sees the scene of his mother being blown to smithereens
Just six and witnessed the missile
Pieces of brain mixed with blood and soft tissue
Now he walks with a pistol and hate by the fistful
Lifetime of warfare, the picture getting more clear
The richer we getting here, the more their getting poor there
Five years later, young brotha didn’t graduate
Limited options, had to deal with the magistrate
Now he packs heavy weight, helmets fatigues
Standard issue boots, backpack, canteen
Red, white, and blue flag stitched at the seams
Infrared binoculars, checkin out the scene
Routine deployment, green Hum-V
Playing hopscotch with the IED’s
Rolled up on a gathering at quarter to three
A bunch of old heads, long beards no teeth
Call it intuition, he sensed something suspicious
Radioed for back-up, they was out of position
Ran for cover, flashbacks of his mother
Hoverin over his bed, pulled back on the covers
Sayin it’s all a trick, don’t enlist
The rich get all the money while the poor get shit
His chest heaving heavy as he fought for breath
Felt for his legs, but he had none left
Eyes opened wide but the sky was hazy
Goin out like this man I must be crazy
Can’t pay me enough and my girl got a baby
Life’s yes or no, no time for a maybe
Last thing he saw standin over his shoulder
Was the fierce gaze of an Afghani soldier
The moral of the story, what I’m sayin is true
Look in the mirror, the reflection ain’t you
Sent to kill with no soul like a zombie
Political pawns hypnotized so calmly
They don’t want you to hear this sentiment
Poor folks die while the rich ones benefit
Never forget who pays the price
And ask yourself, would they give they life?
When they send you to die all their wealth multiplies
Stock prices rise for every bomb that flies
Campaign funds for the next election
How come Congress ain’t have a recession?
Kritikal thought is the ability to question
Kritikal thought is the ability to question
Cause times are getting kritikal
credits
from Acts Of Humanity Vol. 1&2,
released June 21, 2011
license
all rights reserved
tags
about
Junkyard Empire Saint Paul, Minnesota
Junkyard empire follows in the tradition of those artists who have openly called for revolution in America when it was
needed.
After 5 records, hundreds of shows, a tour of Cuba, and performances as many legendary protests, they are not together anymore, but their music stands and is as relevant as it ever was.
... more
discography
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Apr 2012 -
Mar 2012 -
Jun 2011 -
Jun 2011 -
Sep 2009 -
Oct 2008 -
Apr 2003
contact / help
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