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"[I]n the early '80s . . . there was this rather ridiculous idea . . . that if it was big, it was bad. Which of course rules out Elvis."

-- Bono

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XXX Lyrics

Found On:

Note: U2 has released different versions of most singles in different countries. We are not showing every cover image in this space, just one that's representative of each release.

"XXX"

America
God bless you if it’s good to ya
America, please Take my hand
Can you help me unders

New Kung Fu Kenny

Throw a steak off the arc to a pool full of sharks
Yeah, take it
Leave ‘em in the wilderness with a sworn nemesis
He’ll make it
Take the gratitude from ‘em
I bet he show you something
Whoa

I trip a nigga little bit of nothing
I trip a nigga little bit of nothing
I trip a nigga little bit of nothing
I trip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap
Walk myself to the court like bitch, I did that
X-rated

Johny don’t wanna go to school no more, no more
Johny sayin’ books ain’t cool no more, no more
Johny wanna be a rapper like his big cousin
Johny caught a body yesterday out hustlin’
God bless America
You know we all love him

Yesterday I got a call late from my dog like 101
Said they killed his only son ‘cause of insufficient funds
He was sobbin’, he was mobbin’
Way belligerent and drunk
Talking at hisself
Philosphin’ on what the Lord had done
He said, K-Dot can you pray for me
It’s been a fucked up day for me
I know that you anointed
Show me how to overcome
He was lookin’ for some closure
Hopin’ I could bring him closer
To the spiritual, my spirit do know better
But I told him
I can’t sugarcoat the answer for you
This is how I feel
If somebody kill my son
That mean that somebody gettin’ kill
Tell me what you do for love
Loyalty and passion of
All the memories collected
Moments you can never touch

I ran in front them niggas spot
And watch him hit his block
I’ll catch a nigga leavin’ syrup sip
That’s all I got
I chip a nigga throw the blower in his lap
Walk myself to the court like bitch, I did that
Ain’t no black power
When your baby killed by a coward
I can’t even keep the peace
Don’t you fuck with one of ours
It be murder in the streets
It be bodies in a hour
Ghetto bird be on the street
Paramedics on the dial
Let somebody touch my momma
Touch my sister, touch my woman
Touch my daddy, touch my niece
Touch my nephew, touch my brother
You should chip a nigga then throw the blower in his lap
Matter fact, I’m ‘bout to speak
At this convention, call you back

Alright kids
We gonna talk about gun control
Pray for me, damn

It’s not a place

This country is to me a sound of drum and bass

You close your eyes to look around

Hail Mary, Jesus and Joseph,
The great American flag
Is wrapped in drag with explosives
Compulsive disorder
Sons and daughters
Barricaded blocks and borders
Look what you taught us
It’s murder on my street
Your street, back streets, Wall street
Corporate offices, banks
Employees and bosses with homicidal thoughts
Donald Trump’s in office
We lost Barack and promised to never doubt him again
But is America honest or do we bask in sin
Pass the gin, I mix it with American blood
Then bash him in
You Crippin’ or you married to Blood
I’ll ask again, who’s axe again
It’s nasty when you set us up
And roll the dice then bet us up
You overnight the big rifles
Then tell Fox to be scared of us
Gang members or terrorists etcetera etcetera
America’s reflections of me
That’s what a mirror does

It’s not a place

This country is to me a sound of drum and bass

You close your eyes to look a

(This song by Kendrick Lamar and Bono can be found on the album DAMN. and features Bono on backing vocals)

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@U2 Calendar

April 21 2018

U2, Beck Record Store Day Release Available

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May 1 2018

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