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