Go Off the Reservation

Kristi, what you doing? you on my land, you have no right, over here you are banned.
What’s this bullshit I hear, you trying to do, a cover up for more power, what’s this game you pursue.
Your book made me sick, your animal cruelty, now targeting tribes, oh you can’t fool me.
So, let’s circle her wagon, around her corrupted office, around her home, bitch you make me nauseous.
Empowered by Trump, rather grab your pussy, nice body you got, bet its nice and bushy.
But you old and dried up, hanging on to dear life, bad complexion veiny arms, heavy makeup disguise.
Relegate us to land, for ours you did steal, give us just the crumbs, your kind led trail of tears.
Reservations are shit, not arable land, starved our families and kids, under U.S. command.
For years glorified, the western pioneer, made us look like savage fools, our kind you did smear.
Thanksgiving display, the lies of harmony, then turned on us, in our land send an army.
Mocked our kind of dress and the color our skin, rocked our balance with nature, where do I begin.
Our primitive tools, no carbon footprint, land, population destroyed, hidden bloody conflict.
Mowed us down, while protecting our land, savages you called us, your white ass now banned
Kristi Noem you no better, your protector no doubt, now going to prison, next we come for your scalp.
Your encroachment illegal, laws y’all don’t abide, the modern outlaw, your posse will be tried.
Kristi Noem you no better, losing all your pals, better call Kim John Un, next we come for your scalp.
Like the racist John Wayne, made an American hero, rotten son of a bitch, now reduced to zero.
A culture war you say, cancel what exactly, despicable displays, continue to attack me.
Me and my people, killed by the millions, say we’re nothing but drunks, better squash the rebellions.
Atlanta Braves, Washington Redskins, Wahoo board games, nothing but evil spin.
What about Indian Affairs, do you not understand, sovereign nations we have, no state control of our land
Keystone pipeline drilled through, sacred burial grounds, just a vulgar invasion by you whitey clowns.
Mount Rushmore how dare you, press conferences our place, Black Hills was all ours, continue just spit in our face.
Indians you called us, how stupid are you, not even from India, ripped our people into
Kristi Noem your downfall is so pleasant to watch. You deserve what you get, lying bitch mind your crotch.
Your head on display, outside of your fort, flies and maggots around, eat your hagged old corpse
“Meth, we’re on it”, oh of course you are, fucked Corey Lewandowski, sprawled over the bar.
Indian rugs, one million in taxpayer funds, what a fitting irony, do you event know which ones.
American or Asian, to you matters none, little pony named Sparkles, give granddaughter Addie a gun.
What are you thinking, she’ll protect your ass, climb over your fence, bedroom window we’ll blast.
We’ll circle you property, warriors closing in, tax funds for protection, on your dentures you did spend.
Female General Custer making your last stand, I’m Sitting Bull, gun from your cold, dead hands.

Chorus