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Years of Rain

by Khemmeta

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Years 01:29
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The Math 03:32
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they laid him face down in a puddle of his daughter's blood snatched out her neck by a bullet from a copper's gun the kinda rage that's only stifled by a daughte'rs love the kinda day that wasn't scheduled for the martyrdom she's innocent, but did you really need to hear that too? what would make it fair game? if the girl had had a back tattoo or daddy had a hoodie, would it matter if they're black or blue if moms was doing acid, crack, or sober, would that matter too? PEACEMAKER, live from the beast maker pride city, USA, right where they breed haters teenagers catch it daily in the hood, we get desensitized i guess that's prolly why outsiders fail to sympathize i guess that's also why meserle got a sentence like he robbed a fucking corner store, it's not as if he ended life i mean, for real, it's not like oscar's skin was white the suburbs watched the shot from home but didn't comprehend the sight public execution on the fly, another kid loses a life another pig has crossed the line, but no big deal in sight retroactive lynch mobs whitewash fascists' little crimes maybe if Emmitt Till were teal you might just feel his plight maybe on April 22nd when you see a 9 year old playing alone you might resist the urge to dial that 9 11 number and have the dispatcher say you abused the line maybe when they tell you not to follow him, you do comply but we all know, how it really went black kid, hooded sweatshirt, must've been a miscreant look at him defend his right to live, like Neli Latson?! wasn't s'posed to fight back like that, you had to blast him Zimmerman and John Sanford standing their ground safety was still on the skittles, one suspicious kid down, wow they thought his cloth was easier for the blame that's why Geraldo rocks his own hypocrisy in the rain everybody hurts, everybody cries not everyone truly lives, but everybody dies and we don't know the hour or day, or the route or the way or the how or the fate, no way to counter it everybody loves, everybody tries everybody slips, but everyone doesn't fly and when gravity's attacking who's the winner of the battle? status quo puts you beneath the earth under the gravel everybody bleeds, everybody lies everyone doesn't work, everyone doesn't thrive and the sweat and good behavior get rewarded in the inverse no good deed will ever go unpunished, and that shit hurts everybody hurts, everybody cries not everyone truly lives, but everybody dies and I'M black bloc'n on the city of rap laughing at pussy muthafuckas feeling pity for glass.
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Skillz 03:36
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Go Far Away 02:04
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Waterworks 03:36
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Gimmie That 02:53
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Curzon Dax 04:16
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2 trillion in bailouts 2 hundred billion in bonuses 3 hundred million Maydoffed and punked on the hocus pocus tip 3 million homeowners reading foreclosure notices 1 shining city whose major export is hopelessness don't forget, Troy ain't the only state sponsored tragedy more of our soldiers murk theyselves than finished in Afghani heat war budget never ever drops into the heroes' pockets their sacrifices won't matter when they're back here and jobless we are the 99, we are the War Class unprotected, unemployed, fuck it call it the Poor Class spinning our wheels for the blessed ones in the More Class expecting rewards and instead we're treated like whore ass we aren't asking for handouts, we want our earnings and if they hide inside of that building they'll find it burning they sharked the game for too long, tables are turning we're a horde of angry parents whose starving babies are hurting we are the occupants they forged our mortgages and called us the undocumented we been here decades, and now they want us to stop existing remove our lives from the premises for the profit vision we loaned the loansharks the dollars to keep their halls in business they kept on sticking it to us as if we're awesome victims so we came to collect, including all the interest they want our houses? we're locking down their metropolis no more bullshit this porta potty is occupied sew the assholes shut, now there's no one to talk those lies set up stopping lights, and booths to let the gold go wall street is our street, so you can pay the road tolls we'll be marching til our rage is fucking smashing these walls champaign fat cats think it's party time, sanity calls they won't be smiling snapping photos when the balcony falls JP Morgan's enforcers can't lock up gravity y'all get a fucking clue. WE ARE THE MULTITUDE, AND WE ARE NOT THE DEAD TODAY WE ARE NOT THE SLEEPING GIANT, WOKE UP FROM THE BED TODAY TRY TO PEN US IN, NEVER'S WHAT WE'LL NEVER SAY WHAT YOU GOT? OUR EYES ARE MADE OF TEAR GAS AND PEPPER SPRAY WE ARE THE MULTITUDE, AND WE ARE NOT THE DEAD TODAY WE ARE NOT THE SLEEPING GIANT, WOKE UP FROM THE BED TODAY TRY TO PEN US IN, NEVER'S WHAT WE'LL NEVER SAY WHAT YOU GOT? OUR EYES ARE MADE OF TEAR GAS AND PEPPER SPRAY we are. . .
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Red Handed 02:09
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Expendable 04:15
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about

Every silver lining has a cloud. Hope rides tomorrow. That is all.

KMT/AI/CC

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released November 20, 2012

All songs produced, written, performed and recorded by Khemmeta, on his laptop the Giant Portable, except where otherwise noted. Allied Intelligence is a licensed trademark.

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Khemmeta San Francisco, California

Khemmeta's music strives to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves, or are shouted down when they do. His upcoming EP "When I Get To It" produced by Stephonathan (1/3 of both Pride City Purpose & Chedda Guap Boyz) is silly, nerdy, romantic, anti-nihilistic and defiant. He can't wait for you to get to it this [December]. ... more

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