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Ahhhhhh, necro! |
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Yo, the most morbid overdose off it |
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Like cindy crawford's baby comatose in the coffin |
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I'm awful, often unlawful |
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Crack you with a softball in your skull |
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Until you've lost all your memory, every morsel |
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Mutilate the beat, rejuvenate the street |
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While you duplicate, repeat |
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Leave you lookin like bloody lubricated meat |
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I've got a gun to pull |
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And i'm comfortable |
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Pumpin a full clip into the wonderful front of your skull |
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Your life is not refundable, stumble into the underworld |
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Where bigger hoes than you didn't come to your girl |
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Bustin off like i'm huntin for squirrels |
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A bullet hits you ripping your muscle like a hundred curls |
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And that's that, you bullshit artists |
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Can catch an ascap when you clap right through your knapsack backpack |
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Through an intruder's chest right through the flesh |
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Shove the knife in deep coz life is cheap |
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Like hookers from budapest |
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Chorus: |
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You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're dead dead |
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Dead |
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You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're so dead |
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And that's what i said |
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You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're dead dead |
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Dead |
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You're dead dead, you're dead dead, you're dead dead |
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(so dead) that's what i said |
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[verse 2] |
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Ill bill's seen demons in back of taxi cabs |
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My thoughts attack me like a bad acid tab |
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Or a crack drag or black flag |
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Tales from the darkside, mandatory suicide |
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You and i collide, member suit and ties arrive |
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Driving medicated, then the thoughts within the dream accelerated |
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Then some other motherfucker levitated |
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Talkin bout some vampire shit like he's dedicated |
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Decapitated that fuckin faggot then i celebrated |
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Fuckin with me you fuckin with psychos |
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Gunshots and knifeholes, walk on my tightrope, you know how life goes |
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It's like a dice roll, i love the drama, my mind is set to kill you |
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Spill your blood everywhere, like the broken glass of wine |
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And under the path of disaster of a bastard by design the blast and i |
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Fuck these bitches, love the cash and cry |
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And we all sick, quick to torture you, |
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Cut off your balls and stuff em down your throat |
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Like you sniffed a pound of coke, you're startin to choke |
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Chorus |
