Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Zack de la Rocha
Zack de la Rocha
Vocals
Tom Morello
Tom Morello
Electric Guitar
Brad Wilk
Brad Wilk
Drums
C Timmy
C Timmy
Bass
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Zack de la Rocha
Zack de la Rocha
Songwriter
Brad Wilk
Brad Wilk
Songwriter
Thomas B Morello
Thomas B Morello
Songwriter
Tim Commerford
Tim Commerford
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Rage Against the Machine
Rage Against the Machine
Producer
Auburn Burrell
Auburn Burrell
Recording Engineer
Craig Doubet
Craig Doubet
Assistant Engineer
GGGarth Richardson
GGGarth Richardson
Producer
Andy Wallace
Andy Wallace
Mixing Engineer
Bob Ludwig
Bob Ludwig
Mastering Engineer
Vlado Meller
Vlado Meller
Mastering Engineer
Mark Santangelo
Mark Santangelo
Assistant Mastering Engineer
Jeff Sheehan
Jeff Sheehan
Assistant Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
This time the bullet cold rocked ya
A yellow ribbon instead of a swastika
Nothin' proper about ya propaganda
Fools follow rules when the set commands ya
Said it was blue
When the blood was red
That's how you got a bullet blasted through ya head
Blasted through ya head
Blasted through ya head
I give a shout out to the living dead
Stood and watched as the feds cold centralized
So serene on the screen
You was mesmerized
Cellular phone soundin' a death tone
Corporations cold
Turn ya to stone before ya realize
They load the clip in omnicolor
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
The sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their minds
[Chorus]
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say, "Jump," you say, "How high?"
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say, "Jump," you say, "How high?"
Run it
[Chorus]
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say, "Jump," you say, "How high?"
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say, "Jump," you say, "How high?"
[Verse 2]
Check it, check it, check it out
They load the clip in omnicolor
Said they pack the 9, they fire it at prime time
The sleeping gas, every home was like Alcatraz
And mutha fuckas lost their mind
No escape from the mass mind rape
Play it again, Jack and then rewind the tape
And then play it again and again and again
Until ya mind is locked in
Believin' all the lies that they're tellin' ya
Buying all the products that they're sellin' ya
They say, "Jump"
And ya say, "How high?"
Ya braindead
You got a fuckin' bullet in ya head
[Chorus]
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say, "Jump," you say, "How high?"
Just victims of the in-house drive-by
They say, "Jump," you say, "How high?"
[Bridge]
Ya standin' in line
Believin' the lies
Ya bowin' down to the flag
Ya got a bullet in ya head
Ya standin' in line
Believin' the lies
Ya bowin' down to the flag
Ya got a bullet in ya head
[Outro]
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in the head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in the head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
A bullet in ya head
Ya got a bullet in ya fuckin' head
Written by: Zack de la Rocha
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out