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Holocaust
Possibly has the worst voice I've ever heard.
That is all. |
He is ok, Evry1 makes him out to be better than he is
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His lyrics are good. I was just listening to 'Blue Sky and Black Death' and I don't guess I realized how horrible his voice was. |
Yeh i no what you meen he was good on Holocaust (Silkworm)
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i dont hear from him or his music much but yeah that verse on Silkworm was fucking crazy (peep the sig lol)
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You either love him or hate him. The first track I heard from his albums were 'America', and I was like wtf? Dude escaped from the mental intitution. Now I love him tho. Give his albums some listening. U gotta know what ur dealing with.
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you can't deny what he did on the second killarmy album
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his two albums are ill lyrical exhibitions. his work on wu tracks is spectacular. i havent been as impressed with his recent work though. |
Peep Bluntz, Martinez, Girlz and Gunz from the Sting. Hes Fucking AMAZING. Cop his album comes out SEP 5.
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Ever since i heard him on The Swarm i liked him, then i saw him on Bobby Digital, his flow is or used to be amazing, very unique and different from everybody else in hip hop.
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I'll say fuck Nas with his lyricism... he's a baby compared with holocaust/warcloud whatever you call him. For those who don't like the lyrics, or that don't understand them, do the knowledge, his got some of the illest verses i heard since ever...
Vampire Kung-Fu... this song has lyricism printed all over P.E.A.C.E. |
That would be a conversation to have face to face...
I can't explain myself very well by writing... U really 16 years old? If you are, that explains why don't understand Warcloud so well... His verses are based on nostalgic shit most of the time... P.E.A.C.E. |
This is one of my favorite verses from him from Bluntz, martiniz Girlz and Gunz
(Yo) my brain sprouts branches blossoming tragic thoughts
Takes bully lyrics lunch money, pistols or microphone Welcome to L.A. battle the unexplained Scarecrows and apples meet Mr. Constrictus Concrete knuckles and scuffles, I waste groups Give 'em lumps the size of footballs, bricks and grapefruit Make soup, blueberry while dining with classic monsters Better check my sponsor chop before you can answer Brothers in the Contra, bullet holes in the stop sign Gods in the neighborhood, pistol in the sunset Lyrics, the bitch pressed dump trucks with one thrust Faster than sound, light, or speed that your gun busts Among us, west coast wreck hopes, infect dope Whining 'cause your last Holocaust cassette broke The hunchback tic-tac heads come to get you Nine-hundred and forty-three missiles made of crystal Light a match to those, the crowd put all their lighters up Stomp through the graveyard in the rain, the architect Bricks in the mud, the cold weather is scorchin For boxcar children and orphans, wrote a portrait Chewing on cactus, rappers better practice Slimey like a catfish, dollers in the mattress A hand-carved pipe from Baton Rouge to Cherokee Grand-high count, feed Macadamias to parakeets French lemonade, skeletons on the highway Clove, gets rowdy I'll box my way out Poor righteous teacher, devils better fear us Or my pistol splatter your brains accross the mirrors Bluntz, martinez, girls, and gunz (gunz) Gut 'em like a fish, the man who bled Marbles Bloody Mr. Fixit, holocaust and guns Stumbled through the doorway wearing my evening chains Real as the hallway red and blue Crayolas Now leaving stains, architect from Cali Rumble through the mist covered valleys, dirty alleys Crumbs in your suitcase, ice fishing with pelicans Big 'ole tackling skeleton, you're irrelevant Riding jeweled elephants, California horizon Track mud through the kitchen, murder henchmen Strange man's pockets, cigarettes and candy Walk with a limp, chance of a lifetime Bandits want cyborg crank, tic-tac Blow holes through emcees, size of bowling balls Briefcase man chant, my flavor's building Set a fishbowl full of jelly beans out for the neighbor's children Two-fisted brawler, good times in the sunlight Tracked him one night, you call and cause a gunfight Holo-holocaust is sleepy, holdin microphones 4 dead men in the alley, the butcher Shirts with the blossoms, west coast the gentlemen Holding the pistol, smoke blunts for hours To understand the language of flowers Gritty mugshot, missed her arms and legs, drool bullets Bedtime time to turn in but into what? A well set table, third rock from the sun Dead men hung, Cadillacs and dinosaurs Hot peanuts and fireworks, the holocaust |
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P.E.A.C.E. |
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