Rubble Kings Theme (Dynamite)

They're an arrogant, ingrown, close-knit brotherhood like the mafia
They're the product of a sick society
To hell with tomorrow, their bag is today—their bag is right now
I've seen AK-47s
I've seen sawed off shotguns
I've seen all of this (all of this)
I've seen dynamite on the streets

Surrounded by violence and murder
Say, we in the streets and we grippin on heat
You got beef, then we fryin your burger
My shoes on my feet and my words and my balls
Is all I got, fuck with a murda
Will happen to you, I am certain
I'm certain as hell and I'm grippin the tail of Satan himself: the serpent

We pullin in, no social service
We go in the store, they look nervous
So down me to hell, damn me to jail, like fuck you, we robbin the merchants
The preachers sound silly in service
Convincin my mama that all of the drama must certainly serve higher purpose
How fightin 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 fists
Man, I believe in bandanas and pistols and holdin down, rockin my sets
Born into turmoil and trouble, I became King of the Rubble

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

Everythin out here is broken, or blemished and battered, and tattered, but mine
You let it burn and decay and created the kings of the cinder divine
I am done asking and pleading and begging you recognize I am alive
You are done walking inside of the section you're treading in, there was a line

Cement block, hard rock, it don't stop, get it, get it
Your whole block's soft, it comes off like skittish bitches
We're wolves to the bitter finish
Not full, gotta get it in, get it? Get us dinner
Violators tryna finish any little sentence, we will sentence sinners

It all stinks, but where we live is where the set's sinkin
They say, "Sorry, son, accept it," same old song of the subjectors
Sorry sirs, but we don't sing along to anthems or your pledges
In your garbage rose the rulers of the restless, do not test us

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