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альбомы: Closed Casket
The Wicketshit Will Never Die
автор:
Esham
альбомы: Closed Casket
рейтинг: ★★★★★ / 4.9 / 944 просмотра
- Текст
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1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6 Here comes the voodoo what'cha gone do when my crew Back from the dead once more again Fuckin' up the flow again, fuck it here we go again Oh, not me again, last time I wrecked shit Burned down the church comin' through like the exorcist Next to this, you get put on my shit list Throw lifers get dissed you can't fuck with this Wicked wild, wicked style, I don't give a fuck I'll get buck wild I'm psycho just like Michael And I might go a little something like this, suicidalist Dangerous minds bust when I bust Digging up dust now I must, in God you trust If I add just then I add just this No justice, no peace, bloody body police Belly of da pig got me fiendin' for a cracker Jack be nimble make your body tremble Cardiac arrest for the one in the chest Then I K-I-double L T-H-E-F-E-T-U-S Yes, I'm down with N-A-T-A-S, I suggest You try but don't cry, 'cause the wicked shit'll never die Once again I ressurected niggaz unexpected A closed casket when I leaped out and blasted a basket Case brother of insanity I'm not alone Havin' fatal thoughts of puttin' a chrome to my dome Now what kinda wicked shit? This some ol' wicked shit Not so many niggaz all over devil diggin' shit Stay up off my dick, my style's sick, but I'm so sick of this Helter skelter bite my shit, it's so ridiculous I know my shit's phatter than Luther Vandross Psychic connection wanna hit me with the holy ghost Overdose, diagnose, niggaz in a comotose Once I buck, buck ya, nigga motherfuck ya Voodoo wicked child born a bastard Visions of bloody bodies bein' blasted Thinkin' of excuses, voices in my head mental abuses Loses my mind, thought the flatline refuses To answer, you can fess shit as you question Me and myself verses Smith and Wesson I'm that nigga with the wicked ass flow Bitch you better act like you know 'Cause the wicked shit will never die The wicked shit will never 187 Never go to heaven and fuck that reverend All day whenever and Feel like givin' up, mind starts blowin' up Some old wicked shit, once again I'm throwin' up A fit, I'm never gonna get into heaven That's why I bought me a three 57 Fuck a reverend, and God I can't trust is true So when I go to hell, better me and not you I'ma walk the bloody trail and you can follow if you want If you truly understand but my man I think you don't I'm a suicidal revital, my title's homicidal So many niggaz will die when I write my recital They don't understand that I gotta plan for the klan The area nation, white caucasian I'm sick of all the bullshit I'd rather be dead But first I better put a bullet in your head instead They said that everything I said was a lie But if you go and kill the fetus you cry But the wicked shit will never die
Это интересно:Рашам А́ттика Смит (англ. Rashaam Attica Smith), также известный под псевдонимом И́шам (англ. Esham, East Side Hoes And Money) — исполнитель хип-хопа из Детройта, штат Мичиган, также известен как основатель своего «галлюциногенного» хип-хоп жанра с элементами рока под названием «Acid Rap», тематика песен которого являются наркотики, зло, паранойя, секс и смерть. После выпуска дебютного альбома Boomin' Words from Hell Смит... продолжение
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