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Contractor (Explicit Album Version)

Stomping lines in international sand

Feeding blood drinking habits of the Elephant Man

Quench his thirst, when black water rises

He takes you around toward the burning horizonYeah, motherfucker, lets take a ride

We're rollin' round irate, someone has got to die

Trick or Treat, in dying need

So roll the dice as we leave

Cause it's 8 miles of pure luck with warm bags ofGuaran-fucking-teed

Someone will bleed

Guaran-fucking-teed

Someone will bleedPrivatize to conceal all the lies

Big Business is booming, like its the fourth of July

No need for all the formalities, Jump the kangaroo corpse

And flank beneath the treesYeah, motherfucker, lets take a ride

Running red lights in a green zone

Someone has got to die

(Pity me?) there's nothing here to see

So throw the dice for me please, and let's

Store the pint of blood to cash in to refundGuaran-fucking-teed

Just sign the deed

Guaran-fucking-teed

Someone will bleedSomeone has got to die

Ours is not to reason why

Ours is but to do if the pay rate's right

Black liquid assets, fuck the Mujahideen

Paint their picket fences Red with the American dreamLay your heavy hammer down

Get the job done right

Jacked up, and cocked in, to a firefight

Covert reactions said you never saw me

A glass parking lot in the American Dream

YeahThey all die

Fucking MurderGuaran-fucking-teed, Someone will bleed.

Lay your heavy hammer down,

Get the job done right.

Jacked up, and cocked in, to a firefight.

Covert reactions said you never saw me.

A glass parking lot in the American Dream.

Songwriters

BLYTHE, DAVID RANDALL / MORTON, MARK / ADLER, WILL / CAMPBELL, JOHN / ADLER, CHRISPublished by

Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC Song Discussions is protected by U.S. Patent 9401941. Other patents pending.

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