Drone Strike
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Western ideals, third world appeal
Pretend equity got me up in my feels
Trail of dead rats, all my shit slaps
American void take you off the map
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Opiate dreams procreate schemes
Stroads to nowhere, what the fuck is empathy
Old strings, old hands, puppeteer the land
Cold winds erase the line in the sand
Western ideals, third world appeal
Pretend equity got me up in my feels
Trail of dead rats, all my shit slaps
American void take you off the map
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Western ideals, third world appeal
Pretend equity got me up in my feels
Trail of dead rats, all my shit slaps
American void take you off the map
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
I been collecting babies and guns
A militia of daughters and sons
Cycle them all through until it is done
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Run motherfucker, run motherfucker, run
Opiate dreams procreate schemes
Stroads to nowhere, what the fuck is empathy
Old strings, old hands, puppeteer the land
Cold winds erase the line in the sand
Western ideals, third world appeal
Pretend equity got me up in my feels
Trail of dead rats, all my shit slaps
American void take you off the map
Credits
Writer(s): Zebadiah Scanlan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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