Julian Assange

Now where do I begin? Maybe start with the fact that I'm always locked in

Or how I move mountains with the stroke of a pen

My money low, still waiting on this coke to come in

The feds ask; I'm talkin' 'bout that shit that come in a can

Damn, what they'll do to stop a man from getting bread

Then when I do get it, they want me to send half to Unc Sam

Too bad, go ahead and tell him I ain't got shit for that man

The founding fathers got my back in heaven

Bastards, we should have stopped paying taxes after 9/11

Since we clearly wasn't paying for protection

Now we're forced to reckon with it, quick to light a joint

By the second hit and I just forget it, I ain't doing this shit no more