I don't have to tell you things are bad Everybody knows things are bad The dollar buys a nickel's worth Banks are going bust Shopkeepers keep a gun under the counter Punks are running wild in the street There's nobody anywhere that seems to know what to do And there's no end to it We know the air is unfit to breathe And our food is unfit to eat And we sit watching our TV's While some local newscaster tells us That today we had fifteen homicides And sixty-three violent crimes As if that's the way it's supposed to be We know things are bad Worse than bad, they're crazy It's like everything everywhere is going crazy So we don't go out anymore We sit in the house And slowly the world we're living in is getting smaller And all we say is Please, at least leave us alone in our living room Let me have my toaster and my TV And my steel-belted radials, and I won't say anything Just leave us alone Well, I'm not gonna leave you alone I want you to get mad And I don't want you to protest I don't want you to riot I don't want you to write to your congress members I wouldn't know what to tell you to write I don't know what to do about the depression And the inflation and the Russians And the crime in the street All I know is that first you got to get mad You got to say I'm a human being, God damn it My life has value Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Back in this bitch So you motherfuckers better know what time it is You all know my name, so you know what kind of rhyme it is I don't give a fuck about your favorite rapper, he can die next Shit gets complex when I start to dissect I'ma chop off your fingers, chop off your toes Watch your bloody body shake until your fuckin' eyes close Bitch, you die slow, bitch, you die slow Suicide bomber finger on the button ready to explode America has been suckered in one more time Heavy metal rap rockin', hip hop cops is watchin' But I don't give a buck I'll still buck if you try to stop my dollar clockin' FBI come knockin', I'ma be Glock poppin' Catch me somewhere down in south beach floorin' car shoppin' Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wi-wicked shit Super large twin turbo charge parked up in my garage Your girl a Minaj, full body massage Cold like the blizzard snow, reality show Day in the life of Esham, what you mad at me for? 'Cause I get that dough straight from high school to the pros And I'm better than the best rapper alive, everybody knows Wicked shit! Bang her like a blood crip would, Bush couldn't do it this good Drop bombs, Esham, Taliban come from my hood Wicked shit! Tryin' to stop the insurgency, state of emergency This is an Amber Alert, show some urgency Suicide tendencies cause me to kill emcees So I just sit back and collect the royalties Wicked shit! 'Cause I'm sick in the head, redrum redrum cause bedlam I've came a long from small time dope pedalin' And I will kill for that number one spot [?] at K-Mart buying machine guns in the parking lot