Indigenous Inferior (Punching Down, Way Down)--DRAFT 2

Let's workshop this anti-Native-American rhyme (spoken from the perspective of a bad-guy character, not my own proper voice), which will serve to promote my crewmate's instrumental album

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Indigenous Inferior (Punching Down, Way Down)

You think a fuckin crow started this shit? You think man grew from the ground like corn? Get the fuck outta here.

Verse 1

I’m done with seeing you scum, drunk bums greyhound bus slumped. Ughk. Throats of the “first Nations” should’ve been wrung instead of lifted out of the dung. Teaching your young something less dumb than that ah wah wah wah <stereotypical Indian sound> tongue. Instructin em, as if an injun could handle mathematical sums? Native flame snuffed would’ve being just. Extermination would’ve been fun. Redskins totem strung, roped up in Seahawk sun punched the fuck up. Bodies flung, glutted graves sunk in rain-dance mud. Outdone by the European number ones. Reservations?! You lucky fucks! You should be paying us for showing up with Jesus love. Vermin, bugs—should’ve killed all your sons playing infant punt, daughters plucked for a little sumpin sump. Burning huts on the hunt for Wampanoag runts who can’t help but suck, corn-husk dolls clutched—like they teasing us. Poca-hyne sluts too much in a rush for white nut. They jump to spread them buns. Yuck. Jungle musk, monkey funk—straight sprung. Liking it rough as one can tell just by the grunts. Lust for that white spunk stuffed all up in them guts crushed like porn hub. Trust: after jizz erupts there'll be knife thrusts—no front. Spit in disgust. Who the fuck would want some mongrel mutt? Christian cum, hopi blood, in the pueblo dust. Never enough Yakama chunks in the salmon run. Blanket crust, small pox puss—straight punked. That’s why I love true-crime stuff. Sky Foot and Dancing Drum, Bear Claw and Rolling Plum, Snake Dance and Chicken Cluck—tribal bitches all on drugs great to abduct. Hushed and touched. Pussies munched. Camcorder smut. Cut in hunks, stuffed in trunks, bagged up and dumped. It’s a must to hose out the bed of the truck. Firepit clothes combust. Turquoise rings in a rut. Watching Kendall Rae, yup, puffin a blunt I be like “What!? Yo, that what’s up!” Kill them in-di-gen-ous cunts.

Chorus

East to west, the best conquering the rest.
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
Look what’s left: wrecked drunks depressed 
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
White man’s quest: blessed fate manifest 
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
Indigenous inferior

Verse 2

Boarding school graves cuz they can’t behave, brains on the chase like apes not on the page. Boys with braids like gays, heads shaved—lice eggs. Not Abel but Cain. A race depraved unable face that Jesus reigns and its time to bathe. Trail of Tears—Yay! Rocks aimed dome-piece—bang. You fucking stank! Chop off wangs, testicle yank. Humiliate, like children spanked. Wigwams and tepees ablaze. Celebrate decayed demons displaced. Shockwave to today. I’m amazed, Kendall Rae at civilized cafés. Erased native paths paved as the flag waves: red white blue brave. I’m enraged at their lack of thanks. Spit at what we gave?! Forks and plates, horses and planes, guns and sugar cane, laws to arbitrate land claims. Replaced the sticks and clay that could never make a strong to place to stay. Pathetic half-sank canoes on the bank under ships of rank; medicinal aid, ballet, marble colonades, non-bone blades, metal arrows (not stone-aged), paint that doesn’t look made by someone eight. Minds much more awake than those with mouths agape—like automata what’s behind is blank, which is why its okay when their tied to planks and burned at stakes. I’m enraged at the lies the say. Cherokee owned black slaves, then complain “white man is to blame” <stock chief voice>. Give me a break! They’re an ethnic bane. Mad depraved before the real man came, lighting the way: his crusade to save—words called “hate” in a “safe space.” Ritual torture in Mohawk caves. Camanche going out on psycho raids. Rival tribe women Sioux would rape. Demons involved in the scalp trade. So don’t play that “I’m innocent game.” Anasazi like to fake like they aint “engage” human remains, but archeologists know what they ate. Fucking disgrace! Too cliché. Cannibalism right from the zoo cage. Mere superstitious haze can’t explain their fucked up brains. Case after case conveys: it was right to eradicate. For example, when they cant hang—check this—Inuit moms run away leaving infants for days on ice drifts afraid: their gamey taste polar bears crave. But at least that’s an escape for the pain. Cunt basket case. Sadistic insane. Why couldn’t they first drain its veins, something more humane? Nah, them bitches leave it awake—the inevitable delayed, husbands now got a milk bank. And so we pray in hopes that Christ for^gave what was baked into the souls of these knaves who better give thanks—otherwise a date in New Testament fire lakes. Still what do they embrace? The answer would be easy in charades: liquid chains. Space Bag Cabernet. No wonder so much liquor’s named after these social weights: Mohawk Vodka to Buffalo Trace. 

Chorus

East to west, the best conquering the rest.
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
Look what’s left: wrecked drunks depressed 
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
White man’s quest: blessed fate manifest 
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
Indigenous inferior

Bridge

Mohican motherfuckers you deserve to die
Apache motherfuckers you deserve to die
Lakota motherfuckers you deserve to die
Survival of the fit only the strong survive

Shoshone motherfuckers you deserve to die
Lanape motherfuckers you deserve to die
Algonquin motherfuckers you deserve to die
Survival of the fit only the strong survive

Verse 3

Violence too common among these goblins—always was a problem. Crazy Horse, Red Cloud, make me vomit if I’m being honest. And yet to these sons of bitches we pay homage. A Native week: Hudson Valley Philharmonic! A Native Month, I don’t want it. Sitting Bull Geronimo Metacomet mob bent to do the most rotten—satan not God sent. Why can’t they have regular names like Thomas? Black Hawk Mangas Coloradas should be forgotten or left to pick our cotton. Osceola worse than Mohammad, Beelzebub’s accomplice. Rapists, dishonest, toxic human embryonics, always breaking their promise. Is it even worth the comment? Pontiac tomahawk robbin nuns from the convent, choppin women wearing bonnets picnicking in pollen. But when the white mans around they wont pop shit. That’s why when I see skin of almond I feel like twisting heads off like swannecks. Buffy Saint Marie no more to me than a pocket, trilling that voice while I’m leaving a throat deposit. Payback—casino lands bomb it, something atomic. Where’s God when we need a comet? Where’s our latter-day Stalin to stop this. I pray some “Vut Iz Zis?” Teutonic leader will drop in. Shakespeare writing sonnets—split screen synchronic: the godless out there being demonic, not washin, drinking mumbo-jumbo tonics, making up nonsense like how man sprouted from corn and other dumb concepts—silly content don’t deserve responses. White man going supersonic in rockets, making sound stereophonic in cars carbonic, understanding plate tectonics and astral symphonics while natives stay downtrodden barely helped by Hooked on Phonics and Please-Excuse-My-Dear-Aunt-Sally mnemonics. You talk about proto Guatemalans. Pyramids, Mayan architectonics. Stop it. That’s like how bees build hives: blind animatronics. And compared to skyscrapers anyways they’re comic. I get foot rubs by monosyllabic native Bahamans, I watch them fumble with white electronics for Instagram hedonics: dumbness incarnate.

Chorus

East to west, the best conquering the rest.
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
Look what’s left: wrecked drunks depressed 
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
White man’s quest: blessed fate manifest 
Let’s face it: indigenous inferior. 
Indigenous inferior

Outro talk

Whites make contact lens, Mercedes Benz, Earth’s age they apprehend. Turn to the redskin, relatively brain dead, little to commend. And don’t buy that peaceful Injun BS, Noble Savage. Let’s not forget  Pawnee sacrifice children like Aztecs. For them its entertainment. They’re not our friends. They made their bed. Ethnic cleanse, the only way to make amends. Put it to an end if we had any sense.—Dead like the Arawaks, bitch. Take the motherfuckinh blankets bitch. Mahfucker gone be dead in a week. Immune systems weak like your mother fucking cultures. Yo, I always wanted to know something. Whys everything “How” with you motherfuckers: How How How—Looking like beef jerk and shit. 

Ending singing 

Fuck Tecumseh and the whole Shawnee 
Fuck Cochise and the whole Apache
Fuck Ten Bears and the whole Comanche
Fuck Sequoya and the whole Cherokee 
Fuck Powhatan and the whole Confederacy 

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