(Intro – Killer Mike)
I’ve seen Ak-47s
I’ve seen sawed off shotguns
I’ve seen all of this
I’ve seen dynamite on the streets
(Verse 1 – Killer Mike)
Surrounded by violence and murder
Say, we in the streets and we gripping on heat
You got beef then we frying your burger
My shoes on my feet and my words and my balls
Is all I got, f**k with a murda
Will happen to you, I am certain
I’m certain as hell and I’m gripping the tail Satan himself the serpent
We pulling in no social service
We go in the store, they look nervous
So down me to hell, damn me to jail, like f**k you, we robbing the merchants
The preachers sound silly in service
Serve out your purpose
How fighting could turn into curses
When I tell her any god that make it plenty hard really ain’t worth it to worship
Man, I believe in my patches, man I believe in my vest
Man, I believe in bandanas and pistols and holding down rocking my set
Born on to the term trouble, I became King of the Rubble
(Chorus)
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy dynamite
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy dynamite
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dynamite on the streets
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy dynamite
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy dynamite
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy, dy
Dynamite on the streets
(Verse 2 – El-P)
Everything out here is broken, a blemish and battered, and tat of a mind
You let it burn and decay and created the kings of the centered divine
I am done asking and pleading and begging you recognize I am alive
You are done walking inside of the section your treading, and was a line
Cement block, hard rock, it don’t stop, get it, get it
Your whole block’s soft, it comes off like skidish b**ches
We’re wolves, get a bitter finish
Not full, gotta get it in, get it? get us dinner
Violators tryna finish any little symptom, we will sentence sinners
It all stinks, but where we live is where the set’s sinking
They say sorry son accept it, same old song that is subjective
Sorry sirs, but we don’t sing along to anthems or your pledges
In your garbage roam the rulers of the restless, do not test us
(Repeat Chorus)
