Thaiboy Shadow silence, shadow silence Shadow silence, die of virus I can hear the sirens Shadow silence, I'm the tyrant In the deepest island Always Shield Gang, shield alliance Can I have your guidance?

I'm the nicest guy you can find on the island Want to wake up in Tokyo Love and hate is way too close Green LED's under Range Rover Black window, you can't see through All this smoke and I can't see out You know Leany is the CEO GTB all white, we blend in with the snow You know we be nice if you don't f around Shadow silence Shadow silence keep you from the light GTB, you know that we don't take life GTB, you know that we don't take life, oh Walk away, if you don't like me you just walk away Wouldn't really give a f anyway Young Thaiboy Goon, I pull up everyday SG chief commander, Thaiboy Goon my name Since I been ballin', nothing been the same Since I been flexin', Young Thaiboy change the game This is for my enemy, GTB Shield Gang Catch me turnin' up wit the whole squad We be high as hell, there is no denial Just take care of yourself, you will never die Shield Gang, GTB, always by your side Thaiboy Shadow silence, shadow silence Shadow silence keep you from the light GTB, you know that we don't take life GTB, you know that we don't take life, oh.

So beautiful and emotional. Highly recommend even if you arent into the music.

There are mysteries in life. How this pudgy, vacant-eyed, misogynist, virtually talentless Swede became a rap icon is one of them. While I can't in good conscience recommend this film to anyone of even room temperature IQ, I am happy to tell you that the feeling when it ends is similar to that moment when you stop hitting yourself over the head with a steel mallet. So there's that. The film also has a great deal of filler footage to help you while away the time -- trees seen from the window of a moving car, out-of-focus hand-held shots (make that interminable out-of-focus hand-held shots) of things like scraggly glassy-eyed musicians trying to stand upright, stupefied, wobbly fans enjoying music that sounds more appropriate for extracting CIA terrorist confessions, psychedelic images that make the lava lamps of days gone by seem fascinating. I could go on but what's the point really? Eventually, indiscriminate use of drugs catches up with the enterprise -- whoa, imagine that! Then the tone of the documentary changes from naked worship of a genre-busting genius... to a caring, compassionate portrait of a troubled soul with... bipolar disorder! So you've really got the trifecta of terrible documentaries here, folks - a boring subject, crappy music, and editing designed to stretch a 5-minute cautionary tale into 90 minutes of total misery.