Turn That Shit Up!

Lights Out, Guerilla Radio
Turn That Shit Up! x3
Lights Out, Guerilla Radio

Yes It's the Funkdamonic, Style Bionic,
Fucking Up Your Main Stream Phonics.
My Chi Like the tail of a Comet,
Style Sick, Make A Maggot Of the Vomit.
Imagine The End Of The Brutal Pagent,
Of Those who Bleed behind Lines on the Back Page,
I'm Pulling bodies from the wreckage of this tabloid age.
Yes, the DC Misfits, Settle the Briskit.
Hoping they can plan a Charade to fool the man,
I heard Nothing, About what you was stuffin
As they strode the Tomahawk through the Soil of Saddam.
Roll the Tape back, see what I get at,
Burn bars, smoke, blood and after the Blues.
Cock the first drop, the seat got hot,
Now it's time to put the missles on cruise.

Lights Out, Guerilla Radio
Turn That Shit Up! x4

Card lists while ammassed and a licked shot,
I be the fuel, the fuse and the flame
Gotta get a little bit of the Grand Funk
Mick Jagger Still trying to guess my name
To report the Abandon, That's the function of war
Yes, Understand it.
We Bury those, they won't imply,
A Weapon Slanger, World Gang Banger

Lights Out, Guerilla Radio
Turn That Shit Up! x3
Lights Out, Guerilla Radio

For Gods Great Glory, And Our Powerful Name
See a Fire for the Sinners, The Forgoten Remains

Lights Out, Guerilla Radio
Turn That Shit Up! x4

All Hell Can't Stop Us Now x8