Dad Vibes

STILL SUCKS

Out Of Style

Repentless

Far Beyond Driven

I'm Broken

Don’t wake up. Keep them closed.
It’s easier if you don’t know.

You feel it chewing through your bones—
no bars, just balances and loans.
“Be your own boss,” sell your days,
then meet the glass you can’t erase—
bang, bang, wrong staircase, wrong last name,
that’s how they weight the game.

Who profits when you break?
Who wins when you obey?
What’s “freedom” even mean
if debt decides your day?

Open your eyes. This isn’t freedom—it’s a leash.
Debt in your veins, price for a piece.
Open your eyes. They sell a future you can’t keep.
Open your eyes— now breathe, now speak.

Clock ticks quick with a brick on the chest,
grit in the gears while you’re giving your best;
papers sign, lifeline pressed—
credit as cuffs, nice suit, no vest.
“Climb higher?”—oil on the rungs,
work all night till the iron lung.
Dreams on draft, souls get spun,
countdown starts and the count’s at one.
Gatekeepers sipping your share,
fine print fangs, wolves in prayer;
own your song? try a snare—
they’ll move the goalpost mid-air.

(Wake up) Eyes wide. (Hands up) No lies.
(Bang-bang) Hit glass. (Break) Cut ties.

Stone halls. Cold ink.
Numbers crawl. Ledgers drink.
Nation sold. People numb.
Bills breed. Drums thrum.
“Slavery’s over”—change the name.
Credit chain, same old game.
Born—signed. Work—pay.
Die—owed. Still you pay.

Step 1: get born—signature pending.
Step 2: take loans—start comprehending.
Step 3: work, bleed—no ending.
Step 4: die owing—books still trending.

Music as mercy? Don’t get fooled.
I’m a ghost on a wire in a system of rules.
Bedroom factories hum and grind,
cheap little choruses pre-designed.
You’ll swear it’s yours till the suits complain—
they’ll clip your roots and rename your name.

Slide that 808, teeth on steel,
side-chain heart till you can’t feel.
Short bar, long bar, air gets thin—
two-step truth with a crooked grin.
Whole block taxed on the way you breathe,
pay just to stay, pay just to leave.
Cold-call fate with a prepaid faith,
cross-town toll on a one-way wraith.

Who wrote the rules you play?
Why’s the ladder greased one way?
Why does hope come with a fee—
pay to breathe, pay to be?

Open your eyes. This isn’t freedom—it’s a leash.
Debt in your veins, name on the sheet.
Open your eyes. Tear off the script they keep.
Open your eyes— now lead. Now speak.

(Wide awake) No more hush.
(Hands that build) Hands that crush.
(Cut the chain) Keep the name.
(Eyes open) Change the game.

OPEN YOUR EYES

Burn My Eyes

Wisconsin Death Trip

Lest We Forget (The Best Of)

The Beautiful People

Chocolate Starfish And The Hot Dog Flavored Water

Hot Dog

Gold Cobra

Bring It Back

Hail the Apocalypse

The original line-up of Fred Durst, Wes Borland, Sam Rivers, John Otto, and DJ Lethal are back from an eight year hiatus to bring their world back to ours. Fred Durst and Wes Borland said in a joint statement:

"We decided we were more disgusted and bored with the state of heavy popular music than we were with each other. Regardless of where our separate paths have taken us, we recognize there is a powerful and unique energy with this particular group of people we have not found anywhere else. This is why Limp Bizkit is back."

The guys will kick off a world tour in the Spring on the overseas festival circuit with headline shows sprinkled in throughout Eastern Europe and Europe, selected dates include, in late May, Russia, Ukraine, and the Baltic countries where Limp Bizkit has never played before despite huge demand, along with major festivals like Rock Am Ring and Rock Im Park in Germany, more dates to be announced shortly. A new album, which would be the original group’s first full-length effort since 2000, is also planned. Limp Bizkit’s first three albums have sold over 20 million copies in the U.S. alone, and another 13 million in the rest of the world.

Bring It Back

LimpBizkit