It takes five days for society to break Starvation, hunger, violence and rape The United States of America's dead of her epidemic yet again The violin should play When you orchestrate and prepare An awful state of affairs is it fair To say that you paid to rob your own grave? With nature defaced, the decay is ingrained You can't take the truth 'til it's straight in your face And it's too late to change it or take it away Fate is a strange thing, we predicted the happenings Straight after late capitalism But we didn't prepare For the winter despair There was frost on the glass We were lacking the vision But for what little is left We need a tactical mission And for that, we can thank The Division
New York City Could it be more gritty? Money is the root of all evil So when we fall farther it seems more fitting New York City Could it be more gritty? Money is the root of all evil Would our dear forefathers weep or pity?
Rewind
Flash back for a minute as we shoot back five days To Black Friday New Your, Fell the boom bap vibrate Street map is a true rat like maze Open jail, flip the gulag sideways Too late to glue cracks, view that crime rate Whole city's in a 2Pac mindstate Thugging at eachother to get food and hydrate Better get moving to that highway Come on, if you really wanna do that, why wait? Pack your bags, grab your shoes and migrate 'Cause a dead president's a dude that's irate For a land built on dirty money It's absurdly funny That it's turning ugly But you know humans, we just keep running And we will, it is our will and this is a free country
New York City Could it be more gritty? Money is the root of all evil So when we fall farther it seems more fitting New York City Could it be more gritty? Money is the root of all evil Would our dear forefathers weep or pity?
The president says to do whatever it takes To tether the threads and weather the state Defend it against any tremors and quakes Hell or heaven could make My vector can spray Like a rector can pray So I'll rectify lies, correct your mistakes You're treading a fine line with steps that you take So you might find my bootprint etched in your face Yes siree, we do what's necessary Every discretionary decision is left up to me Definitely Stepping the street With weapon ready To step in and cease The spread of the epidemic dead on its feet Second guessing whoever we meet We're a second from our severed head and spines lying separately So I'm speaking to my team with techy telepathy If I protect them They protect me
New York City Could it be more gritty? Money is the root of all evil So when we fall farther it seems more fitting New York City Could it be more gritty? Money is the root of all evil Would our dear forefathers weep or pity?