Wars of the Few, Price of the Many

English Rap, Conscious Hip Hop, dark and cinematic

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[Intro – Female Spoken Word, cool, factual]
“They call it interests.
Strategy.
Security.
But stripped of all the slogans,
it’s simple:
wars of the few,
paid for
by the many.”

[Verse 1 – Male Rap]
They’re sitting at a polished table, crystal glasses, perfect suits,
talking “options on the table” like they’re picking out new boots.
Laser pointers on a map, arrows, circles, tidy graphs,
every line they draw in comfort cuts a city clean in half.

They say “theater of operations”, we say “that’s our only home”,
they say “neutralize a target”, we say “Dad is not his phone.”
In the memo it’s a number, in the briefing it’s a chart,
out on ground it’s broken bodies, silent dinners, shattered hearts.

They approve another airstrike, then they’re back to Cabernet,
while some mother’s on her knees in dust, still screaming “Please, just stay.”
And the press call it “a signal”, “calculated show of will”,
but the ones who did the dying never voted for that kill.

[Pre-Chorus – Male Rap, Female low harmonies]
They wage wars of the few with our taxes, with our breath,
and we pay in empty fridges, crowded graves and quiet deaths.

[Chorus – Female Lead, strong, aching, Male ad-libs]
Wars of the few, price of the many,
they count in billions, we count in bodies and in pennies.
Not in our name, not with our years,
not with our children, not with our fears.
Wars of the few, but we can turn the tide,
’cause without the many,
their war machine
runs dry.

[Instrumental – Strings & pads, 8–12 bars]

[Verse 2 – Male Rap]
They’ve got bunkers, second passports, secret runways, quiet flights,
they will never freeze at bus stops on these endless, hungry nights.
Every “risk” they take is hedged with payouts, funds and gold,
every sanction that they sign falls on someone else’s soul.

When a missile hits a runway, they just check their stock reports,
see the jumps in ammunition, oil and “defense” on all the boards.
“Markets show resilience,” anchors smile in perfect light,
never mention who can’t pay for heat because of “holding tight.”

From the Gaza Strip to suburbs where the bills stack like a wall,
it’s the many taking crossfire from decisions of the small.
Kids in Iran, kids in Europe, kids in towns you’ll never see,
share the same tight-chested feeling when they hear “mobilize” on TV.

[Pre-Chorus – Duet, more intense]
They wage wars of the few from a distance, from above,
and we pay with blood and wages while they call it “tough but loved.”

[Chorus – Duet, fuller]
Wars of the few, price of the many,
they count in billions, we count in bodies and in pennies.
Not in our name, not with our years,
not with our children, not with our fears.
Wars of the few, but we can turn the tide,
’cause without the many,
their war machine
runs dry.

[Instrumental – Beat break, drums & bass, 8 bars]

[Bridge – Female Spoken Word, cutting, firm]
“They risk
nothing
they can’t insure.
Accounts.
Bunkers.
Exit plans.
You have
one life.
And that
is what stands
on their balance sheet
as ‘acceptable loss’.
You are allowed
to disagree.”

[Verse 3 – Male Rap, rising, defiant]
Picture voters turning faces from the parties feeding guns,
picture workers walking out from plants that build the killing drums.
Picture soldiers hearing orders, thinking, “Whose war is this, for real?”
seeing through the cold abstraction, choosing not to be the steel.

From Haifa down to Hamburg, from Detroit across Tehran,
if the many say together, “We’re not fuel for your next plan,”
then the “wars of the few” lose engines, lose logistics, lose the ground,
’cause a war without a people is just noise without a sound.

We’re the ones who drive the convoys, mine the metals, fill the shells,
we’re the ones who pay the interest on the debts of their dead spells.
If we strip them of our labor, of our votes and of our trust,
then the few can draw their arrows on a napkin – they’ll just rust.

[Pre-Chorus – Both, softer start, then building]
They’ve been writing all the stories where we always bleed and bend,
but a “war of the few” can end the moment we refuse to lend.

[Chorus – Final Duet, anthemic]
Wars of the few, price of the many,
ends the day we say “no more” and mean it with our every.
Not in our name, not with our years,
not with our children, not with our fears.
Wars of the few – we won’t stand in line,
’cause we, the many,
draw the red line
this time.

[Outro – Instrumental, strings and pads fading,
Female Spoken Word, whisper]
“Their wars
only exist
because we
pay the price.
The day we stop,
they end.”

4547/7500

[Intro – Female Spoken Word, cool, factual] “They call it interests. Strategy. Security. But stripped of all the slogans, it’s simple: wars of the few, paid for by the many.” [Verse 1 – Male Rap] They’re sitting at a polished table, crystal glasses, perfect suits, talking “options on the table” like they’re picking out new boots. Laser pointers on a map, arrows, circles, tidy graphs, every line they draw in comfort cuts a city clean in half. They say “theater of operations”, we say “that’s our only home”, they say “neutralize a target”, we say “Dad is not his phone.” In the memo it’s a number, in the briefing it’s a chart, out on ground it’s broken bodies, silent dinners, shattered hearts. They approve another airstrike, then they’re back to Cabernet, while some mother’s on her knees in dust, still screaming “Please, just stay.” And the press call it “a signal”, “calculated show of will”, but the ones who did the dying never voted for that kill. [Pre-Chorus – Male Rap, Female low harmonies] They wage wars of the few with our taxes, with our breath, and we pay in empty fridges, crowded graves and quiet deaths. [Chorus – Female Lead, strong, aching, Male ad-libs] Wars of the few, price of the many, they count in billions, we count in bodies and in pennies. Not in our name, not with our years, not with our children, not with our fears. Wars of the few, but we can turn the tide, ’cause without the many, their war machine runs dry. [Instrumental – Strings & pads, 8–12 bars] [Verse 2 – Male Rap] They’ve got bunkers, second passports, secret runways, quiet flights, they will never freeze at bus stops on these endless, hungry nights. Every “risk” they take is hedged with payouts, funds and gold, every sanction that they sign falls on someone else’s soul. When a missile hits a runway, they just check their stock reports, see the jumps in ammunition, oil and “defense” on all the boards. “Markets show resilience,” anchors smile in perfect light, never mention who can’t pay for heat because of “holding tight.” From the Gaza Strip to suburbs where the bills stack like a wall, it’s the many taking crossfire from decisions of the small. Kids in Iran, kids in Europe, kids in towns you’ll never see, share the same tight-chested feeling when they hear “mobilize” on TV. [Pre-Chorus – Duet, more intense] They wage wars of the few from a distance, from above, and we pay with blood and wages while they call it “tough but loved.” [Chorus – Duet, fuller] Wars of the few, price of the many, they count in billions, we count in bodies and in pennies. Not in our name, not with our years, not with our children, not with our fears. Wars of the few, but we can turn the tide, ’cause without the many, their war machine runs dry. [Instrumental – Beat break, drums & bass, 8 bars] [Bridge – Female Spoken Word, cutting, firm] “They risk nothing they can’t insure. Accounts. Bunkers. Exit plans. You have one life. And that is what stands on their balance sheet as ‘acceptable loss’. You are allowed to disagree.” [Verse 3 – Male Rap, rising, defiant] Picture voters turning faces from the parties feeding guns, picture workers walking out from plants that build the killing drums. Picture soldiers hearing orders, thinking, “Whose war is this, for real?” seeing through the cold abstraction, choosing not to be the steel. From Haifa down to Hamburg, from Detroit across Tehran, if the many say together, “We’re not fuel for your next plan,” then the “wars of the few” lose engines, lose logistics, lose the ground, ’cause a war without a people is just noise without a sound. We’re the ones who drive the convoys, mine the metals, fill the shells, we’re the ones who pay the interest on the debts of their dead spells. If we strip them of our labor, of our votes and of our trust, then the few can draw their arrows on a napkin – they’ll just rust. [Pre-Chorus – Both, softer start, then building] They’ve been writing all the stories where we always bleed and bend, but a “war of the few” can end the moment we refuse to lend. [Chorus – Final Duet, anthemic] Wars of the few, price of the many, ends the day we say “no more” and mean it with our every. Not in our name, not with our years, not with our children, not with our fears. Wars of the few – we won’t stand in line, ’cause we, the many, draw the red line this time. [Outro – Instrumental, strings and pads fading, Female Spoken Word, whisper] “Their wars only exist because we pay the price. The day we stop, they end.”

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