The Bastard Sons

What you staring at.
What you staring at.

All your rooftop areas with your stereos
In your ghetto ways from the hardline sons
That find a way, to a better way, to get away from here

The bastard sons, with your guns
Were gonna fornicate, were gonna sterilise
The bastards sons, with your hearts
From your mortal lives, with your fragile lives
All your rooftop areas, still you stare at us
In your routines, were beside their sons

They find a way, a better way, to get away from here
The bastard sons, with your guns
Were gonna fornicate, were gonna sterilise
The bastard sons, with your hearts
Brought from your boredom lives, with your fragile lives

What you staring at
What you staring at

The bastard sons, with your guns
Were gonna fornicate, were gonna sterilise
The bastard sons, with your hearts
Brought from your fertile lives, were gonna stand

With you hearts, with your cause, were gonna live without any cause
With your whores, and your laws, were gonna stand in line
Were your bastard sons