Kush Zombies


  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    4 panel fold-out cardboard digi-pak with 16 page lyric booklet. Artwork by Louie Maryon. Layout by Matt Pidala.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Kush Zombies via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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Peace, love and violent social upheaval. Thanks to everyone who's ever listened to us, put us on a bill, invited us to their city, let us crash at their yard, told a friend about us, given us a drunken compliment after a set, bought a t-shirt, played us on their radio show, reposted our videos online, passed us a joint, or just shown us love and solidarity. The list is too long and our memories are too shot to remember you all, but we can't thank you enough.

Shouts: Drowning Dog & Malatesta (DDM), Lotte Bagpipe, Jen Fox, Hugh Heath & Jasmine <3. James Crust, Matt Pidala, Jamie Edgell, Durston Fletcher, Dick Gherkin, anna k, Mark Oshana, Lele, all our families who've helped.


released March 12, 2016

Bars | Beats | Executive Producer

Bars | Direction | Co-Producer

Bars on 'This is the Moment'

Cuts on 'This is the Moment'

Vocals on 'The Ramblers'

Recorded and mixed between 2010 and 2015 in Bristol, England.
Mastered at Audible Oddities in Oakland, California.
Artwork by Louie Maryon, tags by Dotcom, album layout by Matt Pidala.



all rights reserved


QELD Bristol

QELD are Bob Savage (MC) and Jenre (MC/producer), an anarcho hip-hop duo from Bristol, UK. They have been making music and performing together since 2007.

QELD released their debut album Kush Zombies in early 2016.

Soulful, golden-era, boom-bap beats. Words from anarchist-communists who don't take themselves that seriously.

Class war for your dancefloor.
... more

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Track Name: 28 Draws Later
Trust man'll bust that
Dustpan n brush rap
No car so far, just have a bus pass
Dishrag rapper fam
Spit shit that matters man
You're coming as cunning as a shit Blackadder plan
It's the big dicked anarchist Taliban
Q from the rubble
You knew we were trouble
Like Taylor Swift steppin' in, places ya never been
Ain't gettin' in with a face full of ketamin
Q don't move we're the laziest bretherin
Viet Cong rap don, aim at your veterans
Ain't waitin' to let em in, Syria shit, Assad at the door
Chased by the state like Assata Shakur
Your shit's so pants, put it back in the drawer
There's no 'top bants', you're a twat and a bore
Joffrey Lannister rap
Hang you off the bannister rap
Try 'n toss
Riot cops
Gas canisters back

Bitter types
My weakness like Kryptonite
Speaking truth into mics
Fuck your God given rights
You know I kick it right, even though property is theft
I own this device, in this life I properly detest
Don't criticise, I'm possibly the best
My quality is next, yes
They'll probably honour me in death
I expect, say this obviously in jest
If anybody follows me they're gonna be misled
Honesty's the best policy it's said
Honestly I can't not see any solid reason left
To keep this façade going
They just wanna keep the arms flowing
Trading in economies of death
And women just commodities for sex
So that's half the people in the world that are horribly oppressed
Normal proletarians gotta lead the left
So I'm staying libertarian communist to death

Yo, MPs claiming they serve to inspire us
While calling the workers 'shirkers and skivers'
Claiming they're strivers, management shysters
Picket line rap we adamant strikers
Yo... So stop the sermon
Six feet deep now drop the dirt in
... Claimed she's not for turning?
Dig up her corpse make sure she's not returning
Fucking Thatcherite cunts
You guys are the reason I have to buy skunk
Creating poverty
We hate you honestly
Shank up your bailiff, reclaim your property
I'm the Soviet satellite Sputnik
So don't be shit Thatcherite fuckwits
Justice, leaving red marks
Bro, have you even read Marx?
Protect yo' neck like Ned Stark's

I keep a close watch like drones in Pakistan
I see you turning whole crowds into traffic jams
Heading for the exit
'Cos life on your bars has never been detected
Style forever been neglected, I don't know why you do it mate
I'll be spitting fire at a stupid rate
Sweat till you're losing weight, you'll need a skin graft
Your chances of beating me went from good to slim fast
So make a quick dash, please get out of here
Cos I get pissed fast like it's just a pound a beer
So get the rounds in here
Your whole sound is fear
It's blue sky thinking, I ain't seen a cloud all year
You're dope? Don't be telling me this shit
I'm the spoiled kid at Christmas, incredibly gifted
Stronger than an Irn Bru
Whatcha tryna do?
Yeah you might get clocked, that don't mean I got time for you

Yo, these are the Middle Ages
Feudal free market, we start to live in cages
Restart the civil cases
We target little wages
We Marxists
Be scarring
Weak-hearted fickle faces
So don't find the bloodshed surprising
When the proletarian undead are rising
Police wanna stop them, off with your heads
Peter Kropotkin, Conquest of Bread
¡No Pasarán! But you're eager to let 'em pass
Grown ass man in a V for Vendetta mask
So Van Damme man, Jon-clawed your eyes out
Bob slays comrades onstage, your cause is wiped out
...Now get to war with 'em
Six months later, now get supportin' 'em
Hands round necks of roundhead historians
Kush Zombies found dead, brown bread - Warburton's
(Warburton's, war with 'em)
Radical Historians
Reading Das Kapital, sat in the Delorean
Cable Street Battle rap, fascists be deportin' em
Kush Zombie Antifa rapping crematorium
... Radical Historians
Reading Das Kapital, sat in the Delorean
Cable Street Battle rap, fascists be deportin' em
Kush Zombie Antifa rapping crematorium
Track Name: Nobody Knows
...yo the fat dank carrier
Working class militant - shank bank managers
No Shameless rip-off, no Yank Frank Gallagher
Bobby, not even the Macho Man's Savager
Richard Keys emcees smashing' ya
battle bars attackin ya
nerd shit, Battlestar Galactica
...it's grim and disgusting
I spit sick shit then I grin like a pumpkin
Sick of the grumbling west country bumpkins
No flow rappers still stick to the punch-ins
Bedminster draw-tickers
Thumping bumbling mumbling Westminster bullshitters
...lawless and auspicious
Kush Zombies stalk you and awkwardly crawl thru a small slither
Foolish to brawl with the devilish two
Got bare bones to pick with your skeleton crew, yo

Nobody knows about QELD
Nobody cares about QELD
Nobody gives a shit about QELD, yo
Come get lean with the QELD
Smoke green with the QELD
"Females" come and sleep with the QELD
Or at least please speak to the QELD, oi!
Quelle Est La Date speaking French like Delboy
Now nobody knows cos we never left evidence
Kush Zombies want brain, and undead presidents

Yo it's Jenre Beats seizing your means of production
While dreaming of police chiefs beat with their truncheon
I watch TV and drink teas in abundance
No bog weez please I need weed just to function
And I'm a beast with production, its off key
They're weak in the substance and speaking like cockneys
So please seek the boss key cus QELD be the next level
Best while the rest settle softly
Don't accost me it's costly to do that
The pope wouldn't cross me, can't boss me I move tracks
Your crew lacks the ability to spit so nice
Unique skill with beats built like Kimbo Slice
No dice for you, there's no ace hidden
You ain't my blud, I'm fresh and you're plague ridden
I slay rhythms, no fucking with this
My love for the pigs is like God - it doesn't exist


Too many man still can't roll a zoot right
Topload-a joint, no Dance in the Moonlight
Spark it... I'm starting to need some
...like Park I'm a Ji-Sung!
Bury me holding my grade so I roll in the grave
Kush Zombies shoulda been told to behave
We're troubled by karma
Make you say 'touche!', double Guevara
Start the Mardi Gras when we spark a peng draw
No Marks & Sparks, this is Marx & Engels
Kush Zombies raise malls, leaving mannequins shook
Reading early 20th century anarchist books, look
Don't step to me don
It's like Messi is on
and Bobby Savage getting Trym like Westbury-on-'
Now nobody knows where the weaponry gone
QELD want the proletariat and peasantry strong
Track Name: Oligarch Hit Squad
I'm taking the piss out the whole force
Hating the pigs and the old lords
Raising my fist
These racists get kicked
I'm taking a shit on your golf course
Blazing a spliff, while I'm yearning for bougies dead
Bogart Bobby be burning your BUPA beds
Most are probably concerned that they're losing 'cred'
They didn't see the guillotines, now merchants are losing heads
There's no asking for pardon
I'm having to harm 'em
No Country For Old Men, I Javier Bardem
Most trust me to roll peng fatties and spark em
No jumped-up, dumb fucks rapping for stardom (nah)
They ran that-a-way
We ain't had our say
We're Les Misé-rappers, but ain't Anne Hathaway
...So to get four-hour days
Get more barricades
And less George Galloways

Who the hell we be, dropping bars shit hot?
Q-E-L-D the Oligarch Hit Squad
Posh breres in crosshairs, gotta target toffs
Jon's there and Bob's there, crossing our lists off

This is Lebanon
Feel our presence from
Petrograd with petrol bombs
Till we're pressing on
Your pentagram Pentagons
It's a pisstake
They just wanna dictate
You can fist shake
Until your fucking wrist aches
And it won't do nothing...
I smoke too much and I don't do nothing
The flow still so swagging
Most meals don't happen
Just No Frills smoked gammon
Disappear, so Bilbo Baggins
...But none can amount to
Bogart Bob, when he buns down an ounce too
Oaths are dropped, now we come to denounce you
Most are shot, like the scum that surround you
...So you better not piss about clearly
QELD swing the Hammer and Sickle down fiercely
Slashing Adam Smith's wrists - Trickle-Down Theory
Snatching cannabis if your piff is out near me


The bread's week-old, the cheese mould is sinister
Bob Savage, Balsamic Sea Salt 'n' Vinegar
Revolting prisoners
We told solicitors
As we proles administer
Sleepholds to ministers
...Not the Orphans, it's the zombies of Cush
It's not Romney or Bush
We got communist books
That we know off by heart
So you got blown apart
Real revolutionaries, no Bonaparte
...They don't like this racket
Revolutionaries in hi-vis jackets
Bobby, the junkie, the damn Savage heathen
"I could catch a monkey," the rap Gareth Keenan
No Brentmeister players
There's scum on top, eat the entire layer
Bobby the Empire Slayer
Dictatorship of the Yolotariat
Sit blazing piff in some no-go areas


So pardon my French and don't start to panic
My bars cause offence to your farmer racket
You aren't really hench in your Barbour jacket
I'm armed with a wrench like a car mechanic, yo.
Track Name: We Can Go
We're best dressed rappers, you're dead worst rappers
I'll Fred West rappers if they're Fred Durst rappers
Ain't guest verse rappers with barely good mixtapes
QELD rap until the proletariat dictates
Yo, it's no Death Cab For Cutie
Just Q E L D running Death Camps For Bougies
uh, and you best pass it to me
If you're getting stoned off less than a zootie
El Proletaro, George Romero
Piff draws, score more than four Agueros
Ain't Fab, we're more Solero
You're ten a penny
We're Bob and Jenre, not Ben and Jerry
Dead and buried, No Gods or Masters
Black Bloc rap squad, All Cops Are Bastards
The have-nots slap scabs lots - fall off like plasters
Hate the state, pawnshops and blackshirts

Coming to your village park, tearing down the bandstand
QELD leaves crowds worn out like Superman's pants
With more energy than nuclear power plants
Q E L D is more than just a crap scrabble hand
No Pasaran, call me El Capitan
Ahead of the game but no I'm no Sepp Blatter man
Hanham man! Anarchist without a plan
Less popular than Taliban in caravans
No cash advance, no chasing cheques
Q E L D ain't big enough to fake it yet
Or be hated yet
we're just two heads
That nobody really listens to like a tape cassette
Start placing bets cos we're the winners here
Soon as we taste success then we can disappear
not from the city here
My mouth's a pistol shooting clips full of Bristol in your ear

Most vocal critics, both total cynics
No social misfits, so socialistic
Kick in your door, this is no social visit
Dragged kicking and screaming like emo vocalist kids
We can go so ballistic, or we can go turtle pace
We can go circulate pamphlets with circled-A's
Blaze purple haze, get your workmates to play it
Insurrectionary rap, Sergei Nechayev
...but no wackass cunts
So don't try this at home like Jackass stunts
Now pass that blunt to shop steward Bobby Sobotka
Molotov topped off with a bottle of vodka
Now whose beats popping off? It's gotta be Jenre
We can go off on a wander
Or we can go like chronic absconders
We can go for your politicians, bosses and mobsters
Kush Zombies plotting to demolish you monsters
Track Name: Literature Rap
This Savage Shakes-Spears, you're Wordsworth nothing
I'll leave a chick screaming shes E.E. Cummings
No bluffing, I Can't Bury Tales like Chaucer
Your daughter came back for more like Ollie Twist saucer
Caught the metaphors? Man listening after 'em
Allegorical raps, Hans Christian Anderson
Literature raps for you illiterate cats
Sick like medical books, hear the ligaments snap
Oh, my life is more Orwellian
Than policeman ringing on your doorbell again
Tolkien about another Mordor hell again
Library raps not your store selling 'em
Elegant prose, you man all act funny
We're poetical pros, like Carol Ann Duffy
Some Dickensian ghosts of the past who act scummy
Scrooge with the zoots no scams to stack money
Oh yo... it's autobiographical
Getting top Marx and you know Das Kapital
Bust Atlas Shrugged rappers, dumb man n backpackers
Wack rappers, dealing with the Jack Kerouac rappers
Tryna take on more rappers
1984 rappers
No means no Julian Assange rappers
No Logo, no Naomi Klein rappers
Say Cheese 'n Die it's the RL Stine rappers
No Ayn Rand Mein Kampf rappers
No Thatcherites we strike like Minecraft rappers
War 'n Peace rappers, oughta teach rappers
3 chapters deep now you fall asleep rappers
... So fuck all the thick rappers
Choke in my Fight Club, Chuck Palahnuik rappers
Fuck your lawbooks, fuck your rulebooks, fuck your schoolbooks
Now you're all in the nick rappers
Abu Jamal, no Andy McNab rappers
Life sentencers get randy n shag rappers
Brasseye rappers, Day Today rappers
Black and white rap, no Shades of Grey rappers
Looking like Twilight, they be pale rappers
Pride and Prejudice like Daily Mail rappers
Crime and Punishment from a lot of toff rappers
Spitting like toddlers, Spot the Dog rappers
Meg and Mog rappers, it's pretend rappers
Who don't Tickle me like Mr Men rappers
...Listen then rappers, younger whippersnappers
QELD are Grimm Brothers plus some Hungry Caterpillar rappers
Take joints from a rapper, Point Horror rappers
Looking like Where's Wally, point out a rapper
...Stay annoyed at you rappers
Just mother fuckers like Freudian rappers
Track Name: There He Stood
While vultures encircle us
This culture is murderous
With falsehoods superfluous
Revolving door workforce, the proles work subservient
Keep our heads down cos we're told work is permanent
So the weak hearted tagalong
This free market grab-a-thon
Need to see the reasons that we target Babylon
Why we need arms, and ballies on
Cos it's kicking off, can't Keep Calm or Carry On
(There he stood)
With two molotovs
I'll boot your bollocks off
Whenever revolution's popping off
Tying tax dodging toffs to traintracks and jogging off
Then take back a lotta dosh as payback for shoddy jobs
Blindfold your rotten boss, line up a lotta cops
Firing squads, we got miners all popping shots
Come fight with the commie sods
Uprise when we're clocking off
Then we'll light up your office block

In the heart of night
Wondering why’s the world dark yet the stars so bright?
Minds master the art of flight
But bodies caged in a world where it’s hard to fight
But I fear it’s just a part of life
Shit I so detest
In a world of beauty without dignity and no respect
Smoking cess sat home in bed
Keeping life at arm’s length ’til I’m close to death
A hopeless dreg
Lost feeble and grim
Less sure of my direction than leaves in the wind
Got a mood with the meanest of swings
Give a fuck what you deem is a sin
Don’t believe in your thieves and your kings
In fact, I’m eager to bring
The anarchy, when actually, the state pay my salary
And here’s the tragedy
Tryna marry these ideals and practicalities I dip into insanity
Track Name: Nationalism
Mate I ain't amused by the hate produced in the mainstream news
All these racist views these commentators spew's just a blatant rouse
I'm getting deja vu, cos when the population grew
They'd cultivate the roots and change it to a stranger fruit
But it ain't braces and boots
Nowadays we got racists in suits
With immigration the scapegoat they use
For their bait and untrue daily abuse
Chatting more shit than you patriots do
I patiently wait to improve, then I'm making my move
Straight up traitor the state in the booth
Dazed and confused then they're faced with the truth
That Bait Britain's got a lot of Greatness to prove
Cos all we gave to the world? The taste of our boot
Free market systems and slavery too
So fuck a sword to their throats when a razor will do
With a will to cut deeper than David will do, oh
When you sway from the noose, son I'll pay for the view
Pro-choice cos cunts like you should be scraped from the womb
And fuck our so-called 'boys', I ain't rating the troops
No explanation is due, Abu Ghraib should be proof
These dictators are trained to rape and abuse
So fuck your target market, I target markets aim and I shoot
These bars are marxist with only chains left to lose

I could never take pride in that flagpole
So you can pack a union jack inside of your asshole
And it couldn't get more shitty
The core's gritty
When my own government at war with me
They call it a fighting chance when they brawl with me
That’s like lions praying down on a small kitty
Don't bite the hand that feeds you, well I'm more picky
I'll be eating fingers for my dinners ’til they're all in me
Til they talk with me 'bout the paucity of chances in this poor city
We don't want your small pity
Don't be believing now you’re thieving you're forever safe
There’ll come a day when we don't run away or hesitate
And take back what you never made
Two-headed snake head of states getting strung up til they levitate
Til their neck and spine separate
Saddam Hussein style
Punching pearls out your fake smile
So how'd you like it then?
Reactionary type of men rise again bringing pain through the mic and pen
Anger is my defence
Pent up I'm hypertense
Trying to find the sense in this world of mice and men
But I can see none when each one of us
Treated like we're conjured up
For some fuck to make a deep sum
And it ain't treason to say the queen should die son
I don't give a fuck if she was born out of the right cunt
From the right dick, the right shlong’s sperm
That cow could die now as far as I'm concerned
There'll be bleeding hearts and weeping on
When there's people her age who can't afford to keep their heating on
And guess what boss it’s you that they're thieving from
And your kids and your family they're leeching on
And I don't wanna go preaching on
But I'm throwing up this rage from the bullshit they feed us on
A short leash that they keep us on
Tryna disguise lies but I seen it all like a peeping tom
And I believe its wrong
But who am I, right?
I never went to Eton
I ain't even on their eyesight
Fuck ‘em!
They couldn't even see us if they might try
Living up the high life sitting in the skyline
David Cameron tells me he's a friend of me
Fuck you, you push cunt, you're the fucking enemy
And Edward Milliband's a little bland tosser too
Nick Clegg's a dickhead so really fuck off to you
The same snake in a different colour dumb disguise
I hope you fucking die
That ain't a fucking lie
You're never one of mine
Never been and never will
Exploit men of skill forever still
So from the pen I spill, reveal your features
Fuck police and Jesus
We don't need a god, boss or leaders
Track Name: USSR
No one should ever work.
Work is the source of nearly all the misery in the world.
Any evil you care to name comes from working,
or from living in a world designed for work.
In order to stop suffering,
We have to stop working,
working, working,
Living in a world designed for work

... Yo, your bars are really bad
So I-ran for president, Ahmadinejad
Yes president, peace threatening like Israeli settlements
WMD, no evidence
Meddling with a Karl Marx reckoning
Beckoning rasclarts to start Farc rebeling
...We're Maoist insurgents
Loudest disturbance
Now you're found where the hearse went
'Cos shit's got real dapper
Will not kill rappers
No Gangnam Style, I just Kim Jong Il rappers
Leave em feeling 'ronery'
No stopping Kony
Grassy knoll emcees go fucking blow me
Pro-Soviet, most won't overthrow me
Invading your land for colonial trophies, oh
Dictatorship rap
Ahmadinejad speech, wiping you from the face of the map
Listen, Yassir Arafat rap
Hamas with a backpack
Hammering your Nasdaq
Fatcats degrade us like lads mags
Enslave us in rat traps
Race us for fat stacks
Then wait for the cash back
They're doing crime math'matic
I walk into parliament in a suicide flak jacket
Many guys can't hack it
So they'd rather get drunk like they're Father Jack Hackett
Bob Savage
A known Russian Revolutionary, Kronstadt it
Shop steward rap, comrade it
Kush Zombies dead on our feet
Reds in the street
Stop traffic
Now I hate ya dance rappers
I ain't a camp rapper
Bobby Stalin gonna go and labour camp rappers
And make em ant rappers,
I'll Khmer Rouge bougie dudes
And anyone who hasn't paid their union dues

No one should ever work.
Work is the source of nearly all the misery in the world.
Any evil you care to name comes from working,
or from living in a world designed for work.
In order to stop suffering,
we have to stop working,
working, working,
living in a world designed for work
(Our repertoire is USSR
PLO style, got thrown out the car
Our repertoire is USSR
PLO style, got thrown out the car
Our repertoire is USSR
PLO style, got thrown out the car
Our repertoire is USSR

Ridiculous bars, these rappers here penning
You're Nicholas Tsar, we're Vladimir Lenin
Can of beer necking, two spliffs a burning
We'll go get our munch-on like Munich in German
...Now most try being topical
They think that the world's post-ideological
Blame the 'all-seeing eye' and it's comical
They miss the bourgeois guys who hide behind the monicles
Tropical uprising like Haiti
Blood bath, Kronstadt bubble bath - Matey
Come have a go, intimidate me
Guantanamo, interrogate me
Lately, won't pay for chronic
No Reaganomics
Linkin' weed like Abe is on it
No moron thugs like we're Nixon or George Bush
War on Drugs when we nick some of your kush
Undead Socialist Spitters of Rap
Funded by Soviets, militant tracks, and that's
Holding spliffs
Puffing better
Rolling ouЯs backwards like Russian letters
I repeat,
Rolling em and blazing em
Getting more stoned than adulterous Iranians
Fleeing from the state, gotta falsify my name again
Bit Bourne Ultimatum
Pitchfork that I'm raising
Lit torches are chasing Roman Abramovic
Liquid Swords that I'm flailing, Shogun Assassin shit
No funds to splash on shit, no Vladimir Putin
The atmosphere can appear that we're here losing
So be glad I'm here shooting, for the struggle of classes
The poor, sick, troublesome, huddling masses
go grow aware again
no Tony Blair again
Champagne Socialist, no proletarian

No one should ever work.
Work is the source of nearly all the misery in the world.
Any evil you care to name comes from working,
or from living in a world designed for work.
In order to stop suffering,
we have to stop working,
working, working,
living in a world designed for work
(Our repertoire is USSR
PLO style, got thrown out the car
Our repertoire is USSR
PLO style, got thrown out the car
Our repertoire is USSR
PLO style, got thrown out the car
Our repertoire is USSR
Track Name: ACAB
"When a person becomes a policeman, he has sold his class interests, he has crossed a class line, he is in the paid employment of the ruling class, he is a part of the private army of the ruling class which exists for the sole purpose of defending private property and profits."

Every day man they're looking for a hoody to pull
It must be that the fuckry were bullied in school
And as you live you get colder
So they put the police number next to the chip on their shoulder
No Scully or Mulder they're cold and they're corrupt
They hide behind their badge when they roll like little thugs
So it's bound to erupt
And when the pigs just flip
Then 999 turns 666
Reminds me of the world that we live in again
Police get holidays for killing innocent men
It's just age old power, blood, greed and lust
MP's they protect these thieving fucks
While they demonise "benefit cheats" and such
Preaching guff - like how the filth are gonna clean us up?
Acting mean and tough, it's so feeble
They even turned man's best friend on the people


...Yo, bored to a standstill
Wile E Coyote rap, ordering anvils
Your evidence mountin' is more of an anthill
I'll torture the kop like four-nil at Anfield
Leave police forces corpses on landfills
French Revolutionaries, Storming La Bastille
Yo... it's unpleasantly surprising
The 21st Century peasantry uprising
Farm hands go in mad heavy
Nestor Makhno with plans ready
Framed by the state, Sacco & Vanzetti
Bebop or Rocksteady, Splinter your group
Leave lots of shops sweaty, stinking of zoot
...Bobby Charles De Menezes
No smiley culture, I snarled when I said it
Watch Prince Charles get beheaded, now start running cops
Ian Tomlinson's back, with Mark Duggan socks!


I had a vision of more, I feels like living's a chore
I make beats, write bars, never written a score
All they give us is war
Stealing's only a sin if you're poor
The rich don't get pigs who wanna kick in their door
It's over corrupt
They say the system doesn't work but you know that does
They get richer every day, we get totally fucked
That's design, that ain't broken or bust
Now they're hoping to crush
And take back what remains
Of hard-won and now forgotten gains
I see a lot has changed
It's not the same but we don't wanna return
Just rebuild stronger from lessons we've learned
Shit, I got to admit, I got a deep yearning
To see PCs and MPs burning
In the world that we make, there’ll be no work for a wage
A world that makes every dead cop turn in their grave

Track Name: So True
It's so true, I'm not George Clooney
Looks on the Wane, I'm a lot more Rooney
Kush is the bane of my lifelong story
Hooked on the grade so I'll die by 40
It's so true man, life is a ballache
It's been so since I arrived at the school gates
Now 9 to 5, try and skive from the workplace
I'd rather die than be striving for first place
(So true) - no it's not man, you span me another line
Must think I'm senile, Last of the Summer Wine
MCs are brown bread, pass me the butter knife
So true, no food, fast till it's supper time
It's so true yet truth is subjective
So who is impressed with the rumours suggested?
Now you do to the truth what the press did
You knew truth and suppressed it
It's so true

It's so true
Every problem I smoke through
And when one won't do then I smoke two
Three, four, my moods like a see-saw
Up, down, before I see what the beef's for
It's so true
That I'm all in a mess
Yes I understand the mechanics of cause and effect
But I ball and I stress
And that’s the way it is
I more than accept that its negative the way I live
It's so true man I can't lie
You know I am high
Every single day mate, they pass by
I don't have my wits about me
I'm in a cell and it’s hell when these bars and these spliffs surround me
It's so true
That I've lost it
My whole world's crumbling like week old dog shit
No keys or locks picked
I'm locked out
But also trapped inside this sick mind and I want out
Track Name: This is the Moment (ft. DDM)
This is the moment we have become
Reflection on this confuses some
If smiles and handshakes are all that we got
Then your word means something yo, believe it or not
This is the moment we have become

This is the moment, wish for atonement
Flee from the sinking ship with the rodents
The animals of Farthing Wood
Strike like radical anarchists should
On a 1905 thing, not 9ing to 5ing
We don't see the point like nihilists fighting
Reading Das Kapital out-loud
More strikes than Radamel Falcao
And how!
Stand down and listen
Van Gaal tacticians
They're planning a cash cow, that's prison
And now fascism, we'll bash the fash a little more
Q-E-L-D rapping Spanish Civil War, now
On that CNT Telephone Exchange shit
Not no BNP xenophobic racists
Whose style is far-right, you're a vile facade like
You Nigel Farage-types still liking apartheid


This is the moment
Here it is
Here we go
We become in stereo
In this gold rush
This is the moment, Conquests of Bread
Co-operation's not dead like Kropotkin said
That the city of good neighbour
Something we could saver
Come and get that flavour
And it's best, best
Coast be the reason that I'm fucking scheming
All in due time, all in due season
All we see is grievance, we can make our own agreements
No government is needed
That's power and control, the system need to fold
No police, no state
Girl watch what you wish for
We sick of being piss poor
Unfollow the leader
Boss yourself instead
Share respect, share knowledge
Live before you're dead
They need us, but we don't need


Build the future, break the past
Sometimes change is fast
The game ain't age old
These chains ain't made to last
Keep your faces masked, cus it's cold out there
And the majority in poverty just trying to hold out there
This is the moment
When money talks the loudest
Counting your pennies while they're counting their houses
We ain’t dumb we know they’re lying to us man
And it’s not only their integrity that’s dying in their hands
So fuck em!
Cus I don't plead to no killers
Holding tightly to the dignity they don't give us
Fuck a party I won't vote for my freedom
They're all the same
You can't fit a rizla between them
No ballots just MPCs and pens
We don’t seek amends
No these MCs need revenge
QELD and DDM came to breach the peace again
Guillotines dropping to the BPM

Track Name: The Working Dead
Militant daydreams
Sick of their payschemes
Assad buncha cunts like the Syrian regime
Ain't spitting it mainstream, we're underground, crawl from the grave
Kush Zombies came for a draw of your grade
All of your grade, mate, call it a plague
Graveyard rap, don't call it a spade
...Typical workerspolitical murders
Give CEOs real physical mergers
No longer love life, nah they're living it scared
'cos Q E L D be the Living Impaired
Honestly, gotta be
Zombie economy
Q E L D: South West Sean Connery
Dead man monopoly
No red man that's stopping me
No green cross code, don't flow that monotony
Stop look n listen
Got kush n piff in
Wasteman rap but you're not looking spiffing
You're not crook you're snitching
You're not good at spitting
Your rap face is how mine looks when I'm shitting
Yo... it's the old trouble starters
Keep kicking off like the Tolpuddle Martyrs
Haymarket Rioting
They start admiring
my Goodness Gracious Great Bars are Firing
Voodoo labour, graveyards are hiring
Night of the Working Dead, they aren't retiring
Work us to death, get played hard like violins
Mozart or Godspeed
Bogart your bogweed
White Walker rap, Jenre Baratheon, Savage man Bobby Dothraki
You can't roll, you've forgotten your baccy
Mad Potter like Harry, they keep on trying me
But I know what's Wat-son, Hermione
Hodor emcees stop riding me
I respect you like the state respects your privacy
Track Name: The Ramblers (ft. Lotte Bagpipe)
Class war keep the peace at bay
QELD we ain't the least afraid
You got rights but Theresa May take 'em each away
Have the whole class lead the way
We stroll past police today
In the future cold smash teeth away
Many proles can't eat today
Yet we gotta claim peace
Marching A to B up on the same streets
Man, it's way deep, they find a way of charging me
Sell us revolution back in fucking Che Guevara tees
I don't need no idols - that ain't a part of me
No need to look up - all around me there are stars to see
Discord before the harmony, and it's alarming me
How far the world been torn apart from me
Raid the armory, straight shots cops dead
Sherlock Holmes with a Blakelock chopped head
Show them what's red
There ain't no gods left
Taking your roses and eating your posh bread

We ramble away now
Better wrap me a J now
"¡No Pasarán!" like we're Gandalf the Grey now
Gotta keep fascists at bay now

Ignoring your raps like Louise Mensch said it
Now you're left out in the cold, like old Mensheviks
Them dreaded bourgeois forced into more reforms
But that's their working class chloroform
...No time to Occupy Wall Street
I'd rather Alexandria Kollontai Wall Street
Peasant revolutionary, Sergei Semenov
Wet blanket rappers still tryna clean the semen off
... My flow blows up a load of cops
Most you toffs know that you'll go like the Romanovs
Oh my god
I decree "Fuck Buckingham Palace"
IED stuck under the carriage
Ducking the damage, and stabbing the tyrants
Fucking 'em Savage, with Jacobin violence
No Double-0 7 though, I haven't the license
State apparatus under Stalinist guidance


Enter a nation, of gentrification
We can't afford to live in our present location
Rich kids treat this like a pleasant vacation
But one of these days, these peasants'll chase 'em
Your bars just aren't strong, but we flow nang and gruesome
Then start to harp on, like we're Joanna Newsom
Irritating voice, the accent's Bristolian
Living in a country that's acting dystopian
... Britannia Rule The Waves
Raped the natives and traded slaves
Now they question anarchist ways to behave?
Put your bracelets away and racial hatred at bay, mate
ACAB, take it away
Kush Zombies rise on the 28th Day
We don't give a fuck what you many fakes say
Ip Man style, make plenty men flay
Rate AK Press
Hate late pay cheques
Kush Zombie appetite, crave brains and flesh
Slay vampiric parasites, stake they chest
Damn sick of Thatcherites, break they necks
Demanding a fatter slice
Stabbed with a dagger like
That's what these rapper types may face next
But we stand with the masses like
Chanting for Palestine
Stamping the fascist-right spray paint red
Then we ate they flesh, while the pricks still squabblin'
Kush Zombies starve while the rich still goblin
Fed like a gremlin
The feds are all trembling, remembering
QELD see red like the Kremlin
...And they'll see dead men avenging
the welfare for ending
the wealth they're depending
So while you're defending the rich pricks' gambling
The workers shirk on a quick trip rambling!