GZAjector
11-15-2008, 06:36 AM
if you're feeling any of this and want to follow up with something of your own, feel free. it would be most appreciated. if you're not feeling any of this, that's your right.
these are some lyrics i spit over some of my beats. i just ain't got that shit on audio yet, but my voice sounds similar to great leader megatron, with a flow like the mississippi when it ran backwards from the new madrid earthquake.
you see a beautiful woman?
you need to thank venus
i got a spanish mami
and she likes to spank my penis
i'm romulus, you're remus
i'll crush you like a communist does peacniks
it makes sense to put 'in god we trust'
upon the dollars we lust
because jesus was the bearded hustler
dealing drugs, pimping ho's, killing motherfuckers
on my tippy toes
reaching for the top shelf at the liquor sto'
here we go, hear ye hear ye, here we here we go
kick your sliding glass door in
without warning
about 20 masked motherfuckers pour in
they're packing baseball bats, axes, and gats
asking where the money is at and smashing cats
in the face
there ain't no fucking time to waste
either come up with the cash or get tased
have your best friends neck slashed and chest stabbed
we can leave empty handed or with a grab bag
it makes no difference to us you fucking fags
you talked shit so we came there to drag
y'all out into the street and put your teeth to the curb
this ain't no industry beef, you getting what you deserve
line em' up like st. valentines, that's my word
fire guns and watch the blood pump down the sewer
no sound of sirens, cuz this town is accustomed to violence
and it's better to pretend ya never heard those men dying
close your eyes and pull ya covers up tight
and say goodnight to the bad guys
pray you might live to see the morning light shine
but stay away from the scene of the crime
don't wanna be seen talking to the D.T.'s
or you'll be walking in your sleep, having bad dreams
barking up the wrong tree, definitely
me and my dogs'll maul you to death
then eatcha' flesh
this beat is blessed by a priest of the drowned god with salt water
i breathe life into the chest of a martyr
revenge is a dish best served cold to a firestarter
i breathe life into the chest of a martyr
revenge is a dish best served cold to a firestarter
resist the urges to rehearse these scripted verses
like hulk hogan ripping his shirt versus sgt. slaughter
i start flowing and can't stop, i got unholy ghosts in me
don't call the exorcist, that's how it is supposed to be
my rosary holds the prayers from a thousand roads i've traveled
doing battle with the inner and outer demons
a sinner from eternal regions, a hailstorm of eerie infernal legions of perkele
hear me deep from the depths of the hells, clearly
you can look in the mirror and see me
i am the spear of Longinus, bleeding ominous
fleeting towards the heavens
with a nuclear weapon
breeding dissent among men who were meant to be spent indefinite
at least until there is a spiritual deficit
the beast will feed and never have it's fill of death and pestilence
and peace will never be with you
and also with you
i walk a shepherd amongst a flock of wolves in sheeps clothing
a leopard cannot change it's spots
so judge not, lest ye be judged
but trust no one, the best of us is yet to come
a shogun's decapitator, who cut off the heads of a hundred-and-thirty-one lords
who cried now and laughed later
liquid swords extinguish flames of family names that thought they'd burn forever
yet never remain after the severance pay, memory lane is ever the same
ghost reveries wax and wane
september eleventh attacks are blamed on missiles instead of planes
bells and whistles decorate the graves of the slain
commemorate each day with a celebration of life
but pour out a little bit of liquor every night
commemorate each day with a celebration of life
but pour out a little bit of liquor every night
i saw the sounds of the four pound when i smelled the gunpowder
tasted the touch of missing nostalgia
reminiscing while the-
tears blurred my vision and wiped away the years
it became crystal clear
and i was once again the man that so many feared
a pistol in my right hand
and the voice of God in my left ear
the choice is hard
do as thou will shall be the whole of the law
naked as the day that i was born
i make my own way across the landscapes of fate
i have no home
i only have a heart to break
i laugh alone
i cry with the rest of the world
wherever tragedy roams you'll find my footprints
sadly no one's ever known me since
my death at the hands of the prince
and resurrection by his command
the question is: who am i?
the answer is: the prince.
the son of the king.
the king of man.
the prince.
ring around the rosie
pocket full of posey
while Josey wails in the microphone
niggaz mosey about
drinking Guinness Stout
it's my cologne
stinking like a trout
thinking i can pwn anybody in the joust
i broke my lance in the throat of the last champ
and can't stand to lose
the dead dance when i shoot at their shoes
a puppet master, bumping from your ghetto blaster
but i'm not geppetto, stomping on the pedals drumming faster
strumming the strings, while my fellow crows take wing
i write the songs that make you never even want to sing
and if you're clever, then you take my meaning
you must be dreaming
if you're plotting on scheming against my team of rotten demons
that'll freeze you in your tracks
with hot raps that need
no motherfucking hooks like Shaq
i fee-fi-fo-fum
when it's ya tea time, i need rum
i'm drunk and then my dick spits the spunk
all over dumb bitches tits and cunts
their lips sip my cum out of a pimp chalice, gettin' crunk
up in the Palace of Malice
in Washington, not Dallas
i'm cautioning anyone trying to start some shit
i'm the wildest motherfucker this side of the Mississippi
from the prairie a Harrier carried back to ol' Virginny
looking like a Pterodactyl, with my chariot of fire
ferried into battle by the 4 Horsemen in the saddle
don't bury me
i want a funeral pyre
in the middle of the Barents Sea
with flames high enough, Americans see
a Maryland Terrapin
red, white and green like christmas trees
caroling down Bourbon street
life's mysteries are wearing thin
i'm in the mood for a felony
not a misdemea,
since it's the whiskey in my belly that is keeping me grim
and warm in the blistering winter wind
listen and you can hear the swarm of killer bees whistlin' in
these are some lyrics i spit over some of my beats. i just ain't got that shit on audio yet, but my voice sounds similar to great leader megatron, with a flow like the mississippi when it ran backwards from the new madrid earthquake.
you see a beautiful woman?
you need to thank venus
i got a spanish mami
and she likes to spank my penis
i'm romulus, you're remus
i'll crush you like a communist does peacniks
it makes sense to put 'in god we trust'
upon the dollars we lust
because jesus was the bearded hustler
dealing drugs, pimping ho's, killing motherfuckers
on my tippy toes
reaching for the top shelf at the liquor sto'
here we go, hear ye hear ye, here we here we go
kick your sliding glass door in
without warning
about 20 masked motherfuckers pour in
they're packing baseball bats, axes, and gats
asking where the money is at and smashing cats
in the face
there ain't no fucking time to waste
either come up with the cash or get tased
have your best friends neck slashed and chest stabbed
we can leave empty handed or with a grab bag
it makes no difference to us you fucking fags
you talked shit so we came there to drag
y'all out into the street and put your teeth to the curb
this ain't no industry beef, you getting what you deserve
line em' up like st. valentines, that's my word
fire guns and watch the blood pump down the sewer
no sound of sirens, cuz this town is accustomed to violence
and it's better to pretend ya never heard those men dying
close your eyes and pull ya covers up tight
and say goodnight to the bad guys
pray you might live to see the morning light shine
but stay away from the scene of the crime
don't wanna be seen talking to the D.T.'s
or you'll be walking in your sleep, having bad dreams
barking up the wrong tree, definitely
me and my dogs'll maul you to death
then eatcha' flesh
this beat is blessed by a priest of the drowned god with salt water
i breathe life into the chest of a martyr
revenge is a dish best served cold to a firestarter
i breathe life into the chest of a martyr
revenge is a dish best served cold to a firestarter
resist the urges to rehearse these scripted verses
like hulk hogan ripping his shirt versus sgt. slaughter
i start flowing and can't stop, i got unholy ghosts in me
don't call the exorcist, that's how it is supposed to be
my rosary holds the prayers from a thousand roads i've traveled
doing battle with the inner and outer demons
a sinner from eternal regions, a hailstorm of eerie infernal legions of perkele
hear me deep from the depths of the hells, clearly
you can look in the mirror and see me
i am the spear of Longinus, bleeding ominous
fleeting towards the heavens
with a nuclear weapon
breeding dissent among men who were meant to be spent indefinite
at least until there is a spiritual deficit
the beast will feed and never have it's fill of death and pestilence
and peace will never be with you
and also with you
i walk a shepherd amongst a flock of wolves in sheeps clothing
a leopard cannot change it's spots
so judge not, lest ye be judged
but trust no one, the best of us is yet to come
a shogun's decapitator, who cut off the heads of a hundred-and-thirty-one lords
who cried now and laughed later
liquid swords extinguish flames of family names that thought they'd burn forever
yet never remain after the severance pay, memory lane is ever the same
ghost reveries wax and wane
september eleventh attacks are blamed on missiles instead of planes
bells and whistles decorate the graves of the slain
commemorate each day with a celebration of life
but pour out a little bit of liquor every night
commemorate each day with a celebration of life
but pour out a little bit of liquor every night
i saw the sounds of the four pound when i smelled the gunpowder
tasted the touch of missing nostalgia
reminiscing while the-
tears blurred my vision and wiped away the years
it became crystal clear
and i was once again the man that so many feared
a pistol in my right hand
and the voice of God in my left ear
the choice is hard
do as thou will shall be the whole of the law
naked as the day that i was born
i make my own way across the landscapes of fate
i have no home
i only have a heart to break
i laugh alone
i cry with the rest of the world
wherever tragedy roams you'll find my footprints
sadly no one's ever known me since
my death at the hands of the prince
and resurrection by his command
the question is: who am i?
the answer is: the prince.
the son of the king.
the king of man.
the prince.
ring around the rosie
pocket full of posey
while Josey wails in the microphone
niggaz mosey about
drinking Guinness Stout
it's my cologne
stinking like a trout
thinking i can pwn anybody in the joust
i broke my lance in the throat of the last champ
and can't stand to lose
the dead dance when i shoot at their shoes
a puppet master, bumping from your ghetto blaster
but i'm not geppetto, stomping on the pedals drumming faster
strumming the strings, while my fellow crows take wing
i write the songs that make you never even want to sing
and if you're clever, then you take my meaning
you must be dreaming
if you're plotting on scheming against my team of rotten demons
that'll freeze you in your tracks
with hot raps that need
no motherfucking hooks like Shaq
i fee-fi-fo-fum
when it's ya tea time, i need rum
i'm drunk and then my dick spits the spunk
all over dumb bitches tits and cunts
their lips sip my cum out of a pimp chalice, gettin' crunk
up in the Palace of Malice
in Washington, not Dallas
i'm cautioning anyone trying to start some shit
i'm the wildest motherfucker this side of the Mississippi
from the prairie a Harrier carried back to ol' Virginny
looking like a Pterodactyl, with my chariot of fire
ferried into battle by the 4 Horsemen in the saddle
don't bury me
i want a funeral pyre
in the middle of the Barents Sea
with flames high enough, Americans see
a Maryland Terrapin
red, white and green like christmas trees
caroling down Bourbon street
life's mysteries are wearing thin
i'm in the mood for a felony
not a misdemea,
since it's the whiskey in my belly that is keeping me grim
and warm in the blistering winter wind
listen and you can hear the swarm of killer bees whistlin' in