Standard (EADGBE)

then:

fig. 1b

fig.2

Pre-chorus

  -3b(4)r(3) 3b(4)r(3)

played four times

Fig. 3

Chorus

played four times

Then this overdub w/ some weird effect

Fig.3b

play all of fig. 3 twice then play fig 3a

Verse

I am convinced that this is guitar with another weird effect, due to the

fact that all sounds on this album are made by guitar, bass, drums, and

vocals.

Fig. 4

G 7 9 o|

D 9 7 o|

The post verse is still a mystery to me, but its some variation of fig.

1

Solo

just play that, listen to the CD to get the rythym

End part (the rungs torn from the ladder...)

 B | | | closing chors

G | |1212 12 12 12 12 12 |

D | 2 | it's just a | 2

A | 2 2 2 2 | quiet, peaceful dance| 2

E 0 0 0 0 0 | 0 0 0 0 | | 0

Lyrics:

So now I'm Rolling down rodeo with a shotgun

These people ain't seen a brown skin man since their grandparents

bought one

Verse

Bangin' this bolo tight on this solo flight can't fight alone

Funk the track my verbs fly like the family stone

The pen devils set the stage for the war at home

Locked without a wage ya standin' in the drop zone

The clockers born staring at an empty plate

Momma's torn hands cover her sunken face

We hungry but them belly full

The structure is set ya never change it with a ballot pull

In the ruins there's a network for the toxic rock

School yard precinct, suburb to project block

Bosses broke south for new flesh and a factory floor

The remains left chained to the powder war

Chorus

Can't waste a day when the night brings a hearse

So make a move and plead the fifth 'cause ya can't plead the first

Can't waste the dy when the night brings a hearse

So now I'm rolling down rodeo with a shotgun, these people ain't seen a

brown skin man since their grand parents bought one

Verse 2

Bare witness to the sickest shot wwhile suckas get romantic

They ain't gonna send us camping like they did my man Fred Hampton

Still we lamping still clocking dirt for our sweat

A ballots dead so bullets what I get

A thousand years you had the tools we should be taking 'em

Fuck the G ride I want the machines that are making them

Our target straight aheadwith a room full of armed pawn to

Off the Kings out the west side at dawn

LAST PART:

The rungs torn form the ladder can't reach the tumor

One God, one market, one truth, one consumer

Just a quiet and peeceful dance for things we'll never have