Radio Station

This must be, a radio station 
And who are we, we must be 
the listeners to the junk, spinning all day long 
and over again, and over again, and over again,
Sounds to me like, 
State run radio

We now interrupt this broadcast, 
to bring you a special message about the forecast, 

Wait, you got hear about the president

And every place he is be presented

He was in church then went for fundraiser

The violence prevails then after

Before it flooded with a messed up update on forecast

They call it the number one station

The state- runs radio station

Not any good compared to a gas station

The new I hear is all about pain

Over again over again and over again
the roads to peace are closed, and the traffic's on the war paths, 

The only thing said good is the president

The rest is all darkness that is presented

We need bail from the IMF, floods are killing

The riots are killing the hunger is killing

And this goes all over again, day in day out…


This must be, a radio station 
And who are we, we must be 
the listeners to the junk, spinning all day long 
and over again, and over again, and over again,
Sounds to me like, 
State run radio

You're now tuned into hours of false,

The songs played are the ones you heard the past hour 
Frequency of fear, keep you locked right here, 

You forced to just think inside the box.

The songs you heard never change limited to that

The talk shows never help,  they all talk of shit

Girls having abortions, and preach sex all day
And hope you never leave this, never be a leader, 

When have sense, the silence you

The shut the mic on you

Then we back to the president

His visits, the fun that he makes and present

The traffic is getting worse, brother died in his car

An accident on the highway, a tanker falls off

And this goes on and on, all over again

Then shit I remember this is a state run radio

So there is no hope that comes our way from it

The presenters focus on what kills us

This must be, a radio station 
And who are we, we must be 
the listeners to the junk, spinning all day long 
and over again, and over again, and over again,
Sounds to me like, 
State run radio


shit is just the same, nothing changed

I have grown my son, listens to the same

I wonder if there would be any change from the same

I did my music; it was never played on the radio

Maybe because it was not so misleading

Coz all they play in the stations is misguiding

They may have plugged off the MIC on me

But they can never kill the skill in me

It burns like wild fire; it’s like an oven door in me

I blaze still like a furnace, can never die in me

They will interrupt the broadcast

And talk about the forecast

Before you know it, something bad is in the forecast

Either it’s the rains for fall cause some floods

Or the heat to burn and dry up the land

They never give a chance to the positive to play

And the next thing is the president and his visits

Over again and over again, I got to wake up from this…