Piss On Your Grave Lyrics - The Coup

(Chorus) 

Uhhhh!! 

I wanna piss on your grave! 

make me feel alright! 

Yaa Yaa Yaa!! 

(Repeat) 

While you was eatin' 

T-bone steaks 

in palatial estates, 

ornate with gates that automate 

so those you hate could only spectate, 

I was kissing my mate 

through iron grates 

while the guards wait, 

50 cent rate for making license plates. 

My papermate pen shakes 

vibrates from 808 quakes 

over breaks 

dug outta crates 

that sag from weight 

of the vinyl plates... 

girls work till they back ache 

and their breasts con't lactate 

you're laughin' to the bank 

smilin', showin' all your plaque flakes 

contesting, contesting 1,2,3 

never shoulda been put in the penitentiary 

Boots from The Coup would like to say 

I'll shove these foodstamps down your throat 

just to block your airway 

and that's the fair way ''cause everyday 

you're on a moola mission 

military killin' millions 'til you low on ammunition 

bodies beyond recognition 

twisted complex positions 

then their kids work in your factories 

and die of malnutrition 

see your net profit stats 

hold some murderous facts 

but if you listen to the news you mighta 

heard it was blacks 

you got us herded in shacks 

I got the pertinent tax 

how 'bout the one for when I bust my ass 

and you relax 

I'll hit your head wit an axe 

play soccer wit' your brain 

to make it official 

slice your jugular vein 

still writin' songs that my momma could sang 

and if you feel some yellow drips on your skull 

it ain't rain. 

(Chorus) 

That bitch ass on the front of a buck 

never gave a fuck 

he forced his black women slaves 

to give him dick sucks 

and when he bust a nut 

he'd laugh and cackle 

let the leather whip crackle 

send 'em back to pick tobacco 

shackled 

wouldn't give 'em nil 

so his homies stacked bills 

fought on flatland and hill 

to keep the british out the till, scrill 

kept Washington dumpin' 'em in ditches 

so slave owning son of a bitches 

could keep their riches 

which is how the war got funded 

with two centuries of juice 

from Black slaves bodies 

and the profits they produced 

you could deduce 

that these men might win 

fit right in 

and make rights then 

just for rich white men 

so they quit fightin' 

and wrote up a declaration 

protective decoration 

for their business operations 

a gorilla pimpin' nation, no freedom - just savage 

now the whole world's ravaged 

from their hunger for the cabbage 

Your fifth period history teacher 

tellin' lies like a tweeker 

bump this song through the speaker 

watch they face get weaker 

'less they righteous and they kickin' the facts 

they gon' smile 'cause this shit is on wax 

one thing I gots to ask 

George Washington down in hell can you see me? 

I'm standin' on your grave 

and I'm finsta take a pee-pee! 

Tour guide: Excuse me sir, did you say you have to pee? 

Boots: Nah, I said I love it here in D.C. 

Tour guide: Well, anyway folks, continuing on with the tour. 

We're here at the Arlington National Cemetary. 

Behind all of you, right where the gentleman with the afro is standing, 

is the grave of of America's first and greatest hero, our first president -- 

Pants unzipping 

George Washington 

Piss hitting the ground 

Ohh, uh-uhhhh. 

Cameras click 

(Chorus) 

Knock knock muthafucka, yes once again 

I'll make you pay for your sins 

in the trunk o' your Benz 

see youse an always fitted 

always acquitted 

parasitic leech 

cain't be burned off my back 

wit' no fiery speech 

your hands is soft as a peach 

'cause you ain't never did work 

been rich ever since 

your daddy's dick went squirt 

have you ever hurt from your back? 

ducked from rat-a-tat-tats? 

seen your mama on crack? 

lived in a pontiac? 

drank baby similac 

so you could have protein? 

(just for enough energy 

to hustle up some mo' green?) 

I could paint some mo' scenes 

vergin' on the obscene 

but I'd rather show up at your palace 

with a mob scene 

I spoke to my accountant 

who spoke to my attorney 

who counseled my financial advisor 

on a gurney 

it's about fifty dollars 

and that's almost like a sale 

'cause it costs too damn much 

to let your rich ass inhale 

true liberation ain't no word in the head 

I'm yellin' murder 'em dead 

for some fish, steak and bread 

you pay me 10 g's a year, 

I pay you fifteen million hun'ed??? 

Sorry, you just ain't in the budget... 

(Chorus)