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[Verse 1]
Ain't no drama without conflict,
so throw bombs and bricks and whatever fits in your palm quick.
Fellowman grip mics and spit that hot shit,
teach your seeds not to believe in the congress,
Senate committees, any number of Obamas,
drop-kick the system, this a muthafuckin mosh pit.
A little blood might spill, don't let it make you vomit,
you know what it takes to make an omelette:
break eggs, break legs, make 'em beg,
sledgehammer to the face of them racist feds.
If you're with me then you'll make that unbreakable pledge,
recognize that we all got a rape to avenge.
The rich stay bitch, the poor stay ignored,
fuck the Red Cross, too good for the 9th Ward,
windows stay boarded, babies unsupported
and that might just be the realest shit I done recorded.

[Verse 2]
What you expect, respect? I'm a Reagan orphan,
raised on AIDS and endorphins,
in a haze of secondhand stories of Woodstock and free love,
but that gun with the wood stock was enough.
Pops rocked Marvin, Dylan and Sly Stone,
I looked up to Arnold, Bruce Willis and Sly Stallone.
And I'm not alone, shit, my whole age bracket
was taught the only way to solve a problem's to attack it.
Like, when I was little we was in Nicaragua,
remember Oliver, Contra, who the fucking monster?
Next thing you know we was bombing Saddam, bruh,
a year or two later we had the Balkans and Somalia.
Then a crew that included a dude named Atta
gave us an excuse for another decade of slaughter,
we finally got fed up and took a chance on Obama,
now my boy getting deployed next fall, that's drama.

[Verse 3]
All the dramatics toss salads with automatics,
put two in your cabbage and fluid that matches radishes
oozes into the cracks in the sewer under Madison Avenue,
that's just how they do, ain't even have to be mad at you.
There's a war going on you ain't safe from,
play dumb and get stung by the snake tongue,
it ain't a war between some troops and some foreigners,
it's a war between the human and corporate, the true and the fraudulent.
How confused can a culture get?
In order to make a fortune you must torture and abuse the unfortunate,
consume a disproportionate profusion of resources and
dismiss those who won't as just clueless and misinformed and shit.
And that's true if you're rich or poor or just
middle class, on some video store shit, dwindling fast.
Pick a genre, gimme drama, something to learn,
or give me action, disaster, and let me watch the motherfucker burn.


from Raw Data Vol. 1: Soul of the Shitty, released April 17, 2016
produced, recorded & mixed by Fellowman




Fellowman Charlottesville, Virginia

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