[Cinematic Intro] (Eerie silence, then a deep, distorted voice cuts through tape hiss and vinyl crackle) "If America was ever invaded... they would regret it. The rules of engagement do not apply here. The P.O.W. will endure tremendous amounts of psychological and physical damage. (Long, dead pause) ...They’d be better off not deploying their chutes at all. Because down here... they will most certainly die." (A heavy, slow, distorted detuned 808 note rings out like a heartbeat) [Verse 1 - Chopper Build-Up] (Articulate, locked to the 8th notes. Flow builds in aggressive intensity) Black out the grid, let the madness begin, Thought you could drop? Welcome into the den! East side or West side, the red or the blue, Bury the beef, we got targets in view! Rev up the diesel, machinery screams, Tearing the streets, it's a tactical dream! Ain't no civilians, we acting as reapers, Carving the clay for the permanent sleepers! Standing united, a smile on the face, Wiping the canopies out of the space! blowing off heads, out behind their face! at this rate, we can keep up this pace!! (Maniacal laughter echoing in the background) [Pre-Chorus - The Drop Build] (Beat cuts out completely. Just vinyl crackle and a creepy, unhinged whisper panning left and right) Shh... listen close to the whistle you hear... That isn't the wind blowing into your ear... A stockpile of powder, the fuses are set... The greatest mistake that you’ll ever regret. Bet! (chpped and repeated) [Verse 2 - Frantic Chopper Speed-Rap] (Triplet flows, dense internal rhymes, breathless speed over a dark, claustrophobic trap beat) Trajectory locked, I can see all the demons, I light up the fuse and I start up the show! The mortars are flying, the nylon is melting, The fire is burning, the canopy glows! Purging munitions, without a contrition, The candles are whistling like missiles in flight! They thought they were stealthy, but now they're a beacon Of ash that is plummeting into the night! No silk in the sky, the soldiers take flames, we laugh as They drop, pavement calling their name! The hometown united, the enemies dying, The terror is crawling, we bringing the pain! The Crips and the Bloods and the boys from the country Are loading the tubes to defend on the border! We bringing the chaos, we bringing the fire, Completely destroying your tactical order! [Bridge - The Aftermath] (Haunting, slow, eerie music box melody with a heavy, droning sub-bass) (Spoken rhythmically, dripping with dark psychotic sarcasm) You survived the drop? that’s cute. Now you're in the woods. Blind. stuck in your parachute. Ankles are shattered, you’re dragging a limb. Letting the hunt start as shadows grow dim. (Tone shifts to rhythmic chaos) Strung up and skinned where a whitetail would be. Gutted and chopped for the devil to eat. Wrapped by the butcher and boxed in a bin. Shipping it Prime... what a terrible win. How exciting... This is how bloodbaths begin. [Extreme triple time chopper flow] Step in the room and the temperature plummets, The shadows are crawling right out of the floor, Grip of the Reaper is clutching your sanity, Kicking the hinges right off of the door! Venomous energy, taking out enemies, Sever the head of the snake for the remedy, Bending the gravity, losing my sanity, Causing a casualty, feeding the agony! Breathing the tragedy, fueling the battery, Making your physical presence a memory! The metronome ticks to the click of the hammer, trapped in liberty's manor... The gravity's heavy, the panic is real, Crushing the cranium, bleeding titanium, Forcing the enemy masses to kneel! The reaper is waiting, the timer is fading, The pendulum swinging to shatter the clock, Dropping the bodies, I'm dropping the mic, And I'm leaving 'em locked in a permanent box! [Breakdown / The Hunt] (Horrorcore Phonk, heavy stomping triplet rhythm, distorted theremin wailing, and deathcore scream) (Screamed out into the darkness) "YEE, YEE!" (Echoing monstrous response from all sides) "WHOOP, WHOOP!" Got a night-blind casualty out of the loop! (Screamed louder, clipping the mic) "YEE, YEE!" (Echoing monstrous response) "WHOOP, WHOOP!" We unified, psycho-tactical troops! [Chorus - Phonk Metal Drop] (Brutal Industrial Trap Metal Drop - Screamed vocals, blown-out 808s, chaotic turntable scratching) BURN UP THE SILK! WATCH 'EM PLUMMET AND DROP! LIGHT UP THE FUSE! MAKE THE CANISTERS POP! SKY GLOWING RED! WE ARE FEEDING THE FLAME! GRAVITY KILLS WHEN YOU'RE PLAYING THIS GAME! (Deep guttural growl on the halftime bounce) WELCOMING YOU TO THE PATRIOT BRIGADE! [Outro - Slowed + Reverb] (Dragging, pitch-shifted dark trap beat melting into tape saturation) THE PATRIOT BRIGADE! Trackhoes... digging the graves. THE PATRIOT BRIGADE! Skidsteers... burying the strays. Uh oh... You drop the ball. Then we drop the beef. Now you drop to the dirt with a cry for relief. "Yee yee..." "Whoop whoop..." (Dark, echoing, psychotic laugh that slowly distorts into silence)
