[James Nichols from Bowling for Columbine]   Them people, law enforcement, if you want to call them that   were here and they were shaking in their shoes. They were physically   shaking, scared to death. Because certain people, said I'm a radical   I'm a wild man, I got a gun under every arm, if you say anything   I'll shoot you. If the people find out how they've been   ripped off, and enslaved, they will revolt with the blood   running in the sheets      Yo, Ticket to ride, the white crime, highway   Bring all the guns, the funds will come my way   Whether we deliverin' high grade   To the people in the pit of the tri-state   Or dabble in the hood like fly weights   Lock and load in the range with rock the globe   Made any aim possible   Til the leadbelly lost control   In the hold of the paper that fold   At one time was related to gold   Made many men lose their soul   To the price of the dice that roll   How can a light so bright make a man so cold?   So another man's plans unfold   Can you really see the truth til it happens to you   Its so severe what the hopeless will do      Ain't no pickin' your position to beginning your life   Not every man want to stand by his kids and his wife   Too many lost kids in the night   Hand on heat, grippin' it tight   Any man want beef could get it right   Followed by enough flame to put a permanent end   To the learning of men   Class session, too many the blast the last lesson   Often taught like the wars that are often fought   As old as mankind   Now outta his damn mind   Stand on the gunpowder landmine   Ready to blow at any second   I'm checking for the signs of the end   Of all-time, I figure its on time, my last thoughts forming the rhyme      Got me running through the streets   That reek of the dead, its more food to the wealthy   My niggaz on welfare, nobody givin' up healthcare   Nothing but heat, how you gonna tell me it ain't hell here?   George Bush having a swell year   Swingin' the gat, ready to clap, anything on the map   You done seen what they bring to Iraq   Now bring it back to the source, land of the physical force   Land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun!      This is the place where the cops rush in the building   Paramilitary death squads murder your children   Empty shell of a man rippin' shots in the air   Soldiers dying out there, but nobody cares   Prepare for the future but make note of the past   Or be condemned to live it again and get blast   Class warfare kept outta the news   Replaced by a corporation's political views   Cause this is where the guns are manufactured and sold   The land that was stolen stripped of all of its gold   Old timers on the death bed speakin' the wisdom   Immigrants crucified by conservative Christians   Now we all got freedom to die in the street   But the difference is more of us die in a week   Than they die in a year I made it clear   Where I stand when the line is drawn   But now the line is gone   And nigga anything goes   The land where the guns don't let anything grow   And what the fuck you niggaz know about living in hell   You not built like me you never lived in a cell   You never gambled with your soul   Fuck the ice on your hand, gun in your palm   But you got a niggaz life in your hand   Young man, just remember that slicing a gram   Is a bloody game, like throwin' mice in a fan   My words flow like the rivers thats west of Iran   The fertile crescent moon, with the star in the middle   I reveal the depth of history's scars when I scribble   I gave you the world, and I ain't even charged you a little   The martyr is crippled   The prophets are dead and buried, but the message is simple   And its not written down in holy books as a riddle      Now we running through the streets, starvin'   On that guerilla warfare   My people stuck in a guerilla warfare   Innocent children screamin' in tears   You actin' like the army ain't put hell here   Military industry havin' a swell year   Swinging a gat while lying in heaven   Living off a blank check after 9/11   But I'm have the truth brought back to the source   Fight for my land with physical force   Speak through music, the subliminal course   I need a tech and a clip, fuck a jag and a Porsche   Land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun, land of the gun