A white richman with a hundred rifles is nothing but a suspect
But a black father and his family are always better off dead

You say they were mistaken
But how many times?
Are you fucking kidding me? You are shooting them from behind

So whose blood is that?
Whose blood is that?

And while they burn
You feel the heat
You see, we’ve overcome
Their will to live
And while they burn
You feel nothing
So that your eyes
Remain the only green

You tell lies!
And they believe you
You cry!
Make sure they buy it too
So those who are lost now believe they found God
And the rest of the world needs saving from above

But answer my question before the election
This crimson red all over your hands
Forget the distraction
Yeah I’ve seen it and I’ll sing it so everybody hears it
Whose blood is that?

So whose blood is that?
Whose blood is that?