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Oh My God Lyrics

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Oh My God

 
Michael Franti & Spearhead Lyrics
CD  ·  DVD  ·  Sheet music

Oh My God (chorus)

Oh my, oh my God

Oh mama they got us livin’ suicide

Singin’ oh my, oh my God

Oh mama they got us livin’ genocide

Oh my, Oh my God



Slam bam I come unseen

But like gasoline you can tell I’m in the tank

Like money in the bank

I smell appealing, but I’m toxic, can send you reeling

Without an inklin’, keep ya thinkin’

‘Cause you gave cash to the feds, left your school district for dead

f**k you up in the head, but still they sayin’ nothin’s wrong

Selling fire-water but outlawin’ the bong

Still believing the system is workin’

While half of my people are still out of workin’

Anonymous notes left in the pockets and coats

Of judges and juries from ‘Frisco and Jersey

Threats and protests politicians mob debts

Trumped up charges and phony arrests

Stage a lethal injection, the night before the election

‘Cause he got donations from the prison guard’s union



(chorus)



Listen in to my stethoscope on a rope

Internal lullabies, human cries

Thumps and silence, the language of violence

Algorithmic, cataclysmic, seismic, biorhythmic

You can make a life longer, but you can’t save it

You can make a clone and then you try to enslave it?

Stealin’ DNA samples from the unborn

And then you comin’ after us

‘Cause we sampled a James Brown horn?

Scientists whose God is progress

A four-headed sheep is their latest project

The CIA runnin’ like that Jones from Indiana

But they still won’t talk about that Jones in Guyana

This ain’t no cartoon, no one slips on bananas

Do you really think that that car killed Diana?

Hell, I shot Ronald Regan, I shot JFK

I slept with Marilyn she sung me “Happy Birthday”



(chorus)



Well politicians got lipstick on the collar

The whole media started to holler

But I don’t give a f**k who they screwin’ in private

I wanna know who they screwin’ in public

Robbin’, cheatin’, stealin’

White collar criminal

McDonald eatin’, you deserve a beatin’

Send you home a weepin’, with a fat bill for your Caribbean weekend

For just about anything they can bust us

False advertising sayin’ “Halls of Justice”

You tellin’ the youth don’t be so violent

Then you drop bombs on every single continent

Mandatory minimum sentencin’

‘Cause he got caught with a pocket full of medicine

Do that again another ten up in the pen

I feel so mad I wanna bomb an institution

singin’



(chorus)

CD  ·  DVD  ·  Sheet music
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