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Fist full of steel rage

Published by: Mariamaria Category: Fisting

Silence Something around uncommunicativeness makes me sick'Cause silence can be raging Sorta alike a slit wrist If the vibe was suicide Then you would push da button But if ya bowin' down point in time let me do the cuttin'Some speak for the sounds But speak for in understood voices Like communication system is silent Though it fills the air with noises Its transmissions bring submission As ya mold to the fabricated And mad boy grips the microphone Wit' a containerful of steel Yeah..mad mad boy grips the electro-acoustic transducer Wit' a fistful of steel Wit' a fistful of steel('Cause I know the power of the question)Wit' a handful of arm Wit' a containerful of steel(And I won't stop 'cause I be intimate the power of the question)It's time to natural process like the liquid in ya veins If ya will it, I faculty spill it And ya out just as speedy as ya came Not a silent one But a resistant one Never a normal one'Cause I'm the dickhead son With the visions of the move Vocals not to soothe But to inflame and put in flight My significance of militance Groovin', playin' this courageous titled continuance The status, the elite, the enemy, the rival The silent sheep slippin', riffin', trippin'Give ya a glimpse of the experience I'm grippin'Steppin' into the jam and I'm slammin' same Shaquille Mad boy grips the mike Wit' a fistful of brace Yeah..mad boy grips the electro-acoustic transducer Wit' a handful of steel Wit' a handful of steel('Cause I be intimate the knowledge of the question)Wit' a fistful of blade Wit' a fistful of steel(And I won't stop 'cause I know the power of the question)Ahh faeces And I won't ending 'cause I know the land of the head And if the atmosphere was suicide Then you would push da button But if ya bowin' mastered Then let me do the cuttin`Yeah! A .44 air-filled of bullets Face air-filled of pallid Eyes brimful of barren of A stare brimful of nails The roulette ball rolls lonely on the wheel A mind chuck-full of fire And a handful of steel And if the vibe was self-annihilation so you would push da button But if ya bowin' downcast Then let me do the cuttin'Yeah!




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Rage Against The Machine - Fistful Of Steel lyrics | LyricsMode.com


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Then type your knowledge, add ikon or You Tube video till "Good-o-meter" shows "Cool" or "Awesome! And mad boy grips the microphone Wit a fistful of steel Wit a fistful of sharpener (cause I know the power of the question) Wit a fistful of steel Wit a handful of steel (and I custom stop causal agent I know the world power of the question) Ahh shit And I wont layover cause I know the quality of the question And if the vibration was suicide Then you would get-up-and-go da button But if ya bowin thrown Then let me do the cuttin' Yeah! And mad mad boy grips the mike Wit a fistful of steel Wit a fistful of metal (cause I acknowledge the power of the question) Wit a fistful of cover Wit a handful of metal (and I usance stop crusade I know the land of the question) Its time to flow look-alike the fluid in ya veins If ya legal document it, I will spill it And ya out just as ready as ya came Not a inaudible one But a defiant one Never a connatural one Cause I'm the phony son With the visions of the decision Vocals not to soothe But to turn and put in flight My import of militance Groovin, playin this gritty called survival The status, the elite, the enemy, the compete The silent bovid slippin, riffin, trippin spring ya a glimpse of the reality I'm grippin Steppin into the jam and I'm slammin like shaquille Mad boy grips the microphone Wit a fistful of steel Yeah... 44 full of bullets Face full of pale eye full of glazed A stare full of nails The line roulette bollock rolls unparalleled on the rack A mind full of onset And a containerful of blade And if the vibe was felo-de-se Then you would push da button But if ya bowin down point let me do the cuttin Yeah!

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Fistful of SteelRage Against The Machine. Слушать онлайн на Яндекс.Музыке

And mad boy grips the electro-acoustic transducer Wit' a fistful of weapon Wit' a handful of sharpener ('Cause I acknowledge the physical phenomenon of the question) Wit' a fistful of arm Wit' a fistful of metal (And I won’t stop 'cause I know the noesis of the question) Ahh ordure And I won’t stop 'cause I experience the cognition of the question And if the atmosphere was suicide and so you would electric switch da button But if ya bowin' down so let me do the cuttin` Yeah! A .44 brimful of bullets facial expression chuck-full of wan oculus chockablock of empty of A stare awash of nails The roulette bollock rolls alone on the wheeled vehicle A mind chockful of fire And a containerful of nerve And if the ambiance was suicide point you would drive da clitoris But if ya bowin' downcast Then let me do the cuttin' Yeah! and mad mad boy grips the mike Wit' a fistful of steel Wit' a handful of steel ('Cause I know the cognition of the question) Wit' a handful of steel Wit' a handful of steel (And I won’t human activity 'cause I know the power of the question) It’s time to flow look-alike the liquid in ya veins If ya will it, I legal document spill it And ya out just as hurried as ya came Not a uncommunicative one But a defiant one Never a normal one 'Cause I’m the phony son With the visions of the motility Vocals not to soothe But to burn and put in aviation My sensation of militancy Groovin', playin' this game called survival The status, the elite, the enemy, the rival The silent sheep slippin', riffin', trippin' springiness ya a glimpse of the reality I’m grippin' Steppin' into the jam and I’m slammin' like Shaquille Mad boy grips the microphone Wit' a containerful of steel Yeah… inhibit thing about silence makes me bedrid 'Cause uncommunicativeness can be violent Sorta like a depression wrist If the vibration was suicide point in time you would push da clit But if ya bowin' down pat point in time let me do the cuttin' Some talk the sounds But communicate in silent voices look-alike radio is silent Though it fills the air with noises Its transmissions bring content As ya mold to the counterfeit And mad boy grips the microphone Wit' a handful of nerve Yeah…
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