Down in Jungleland The Rangers had a homecoming In Harlem late last night And the Magic Rat drove his sleek machine Over the Jersey state line Barefoot girl sitting on the hood of a Dodge Drinking warm beer in the soft summer rain The Rat pulls into

This is our warning shot ah ah The final call The final call, the final call Came in no clout small bank and my big mouth Small name but these big shots know just' what this kids bout I said shit then I meant shit, coroner I dead shit I treat hoes just

Down they come, the swarm of locusts Skies above converge to choke us Feast of souls consume the harvest Forming clouds, their shadow shrouds Louder the tattered wings they sound Young and old, suffer unto the locust Descending down Sweet caress grazes

Welcome in my friend I can take you High and make you Out of the cold where it's warm Please step in What's your name my friend My name's the same What a strange coincidence

War Machine Gimme that thing and feed your war Push your foot to the floor Don't need no more You've been peeking all around While they're messing about Better get your name, come on in Make a stand, show your hand Call in the high command

I've found a way to make you I've found a way A way to make you smile I read bad poetry Into your machine I save your messages Just to hear your voice You always listen carefully To awkward rhymes

You got the love (Who's got the love) But you've got the love I need to see me through And they all say Sometimes I feel like throwing my hands up in the air I know I can count on all of you Sometimes I feel like saying “Lord, I just don't care” You got

In comes the flood Wake up America (America, America, I shed these words for thee) All hail Praises be to thee Oh ye paper deity As we hail our sacred cow To the bankers we will bow Endless profit from their wars Making slaves of all the poor