There once was a song called "Arrest The President."
Contemporary music, a hit with the kids, it was a top ten
I wasn't pop then, so I missed the bus a bit
But politics was on everybody's hot this summer list
The cool kids were all rocking votes
I shit you not, I was pistol whippin' cops for hip hop. (Booyea!)

On my soap box yelling into megaphones
Killing hard rocks using carcasses as stepping stones
Had to promise that I'd stop holding my marches
The day that Chris Columbus got crucified on golden arches
My pedestal was too tall to climb off
In fact that's the reason for the high horse
And from up here I see Marines and Hummers on a conquest;
Underdogs with wonderbras in a push-up contest
All for the sake of military recruitment
It felt like Kent State the way they targeted the students
I galloped off whistling "Ohio."
The rest of them, stuck doing stand up at a cricket convention
What would they die for? (repeat)
Is it the same machine that leaves the quality of life poor?
An abominable colony of cyborgs?
Clogging up the property that I bought with eyesores?

That clever ad campaign ain't worth
The time taken from minimum wage labor;
I don't care how half-naked or fake she looks
She smells like dirty cash and aged paper books
What would she die for?
Slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em
Slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em

Now it's whistle blower vs. the pistol holder;
Case dismissed, they'll lock you up and throw away the key witness
Justice is the whim of a judge, check his chest density
It leaves much room for error, and the rest left to destiny
The West Memphis 3 lost paradise
It's death penalty vs. suicidal tendencies
All I wanted was a fucking Pepsi
Institution
Making you think you're crazy is a billion dollar industry
If they could sell sanity in a bottle
They'd be charging for compressed air
And marketing healthcare
They demonize welfare
Middle class eliminated
Rich get richer til the poor get educated

But some of y'all still haven't grown into your face
And your face doesn't quite match your head
And I'm waiting for a brain to fill the dead space that's left
You're all, "Give me ethnicity or give me dreads."
Trustafundian rebel without a cause for alarm
Cause when push turns to shove
You jump into your forefathers arms
He's a banker, you're part of the system
Off go the dreadlocks in comes the income
The briefcase (the freebase)
The sickness (the symptom)
When the cameras start rollin' stay the fuck outta the picture pilgrim!
The briefcase (the freebase)
The sickness (the symptoms)
When the cameras start rollin'...
Slow down Gandhi, you're killin' em
Mr. Save The World, spare us the details
Save the females from losing interest
And Miss Save The Universe
You're a damsel in distress
Tied down to a track of isolated incidents
Generalize my disease
I need a taste of what it's like
Living off the fat of kings
I play the scab at your hunger strike
Slow down Gandhi, you're killin'em

One love, one life, one too many victims
Republicrat, Democran, one party system
Media goes in a frenzy
They're stripped of their credentials
Presidential candidates can't debate over this instrumental
Let 'em freestyle, winner takes all
When the music's dead, I'll have Ted Nugent's head hangin' on my wall
Kill one of ours, we'll kill one of yours
With some friendly fire, that's a funny term, like civil war

Six in the morning, police at my crib
Now my nights consist of two toothpicks and eyelids
The crucifix and vitamins, music that is pirated
New flavored food made of mutated hybrids
Uh, they tell me that it's not that bad
It fucks you up good, but its not that bad
They hold on to these tales till it's the dog that wags
God save us all if he lets the cat out the bag
Who's the one to blame for this strain in my vocal chords?
Who can pen a hateful threat but can't hold a sword?
It's the same who complain about the global war
But can't overthrow the local joker that they voted for

They call the shots
(but they're not in the line of fire)
I call the cops
(but they're breakin the line of duty)
Lets call a stop to the abuse of authority
The truth keeps callin' me, and I'ma live to tell the story

So look for truth, quit seeking forgiveness
You need to cut the noose, but you don't believe in scissors
You support the troops by wearing yellow ribbons?
Just bring home my motherfuckin' brothers and sisters

Cause they don't call the shots
(but they're in the line of fire)
I'd like to call the cops
(but they're breakin' the line of duty)
It's time to call a stop
(To the abuse of authority)
The truth keeps calling me
And I'ma live to tell the story

(Meadow superstar
That is what you are
Coming from a farm
Reaching with your arm
Come away with me
To another ranch
We can rely on a tree-branch
(Greeting is on))