Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Underworld , by - Apathy. Song from the album War Syndrome, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 17.04.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DGZ
Song language: English
The Underworld |
| Reel Wolf, underground shit |
| I guess I’m up first, right? |
| I’mma rap first? |
| Alright, let me hit this blunt right quick |
| I’m the sickest motherfucker on this earth |
| That’ll fuck a transvestite, dog, or blue Smurf |
| Bizarre smack a bitch quick |
| Then give her ass and lick while she take a shit |
| Fuck your period, fuck your rag |
| Take it in your ass, just like a fag |
| All my fans is crazy, they love it |
| That’s why I say fuck it, and smack you in public |
| I’m rugged! |
| Yeah, you know me well |
| The Gods said that they owe me hell |
| I’m the outlaw Josey Wales |
| I make a nigga feel spiritual like holy tales |
| From the bible, roll Exodus and then inhale |
| No one knows you, so if I kill you who’d I tell? |
| Half-hipster, whiney nigga that’s a fuckin' fail |
| Life without purpose, that’s a fucking jail |
| Lost Cauze, when I spit it’s fucking hell |
| Master a dance of lesbians |
| Satanic majesty’s equestrian |
| On a black steed stampeding pedestrians |
| 'Do what thou wilt' shall be the whole of the law |
| I get my dick sucked by a nun with the soul of a whore |
| Superstitious like a gypsy casting a death-spell |
| Exhale chemtrails |
| Strangle you with your own entrails |
| 14th day of July innocence was averted |
| Ill Bill, born on the same day Billy The Kid was murdered |
| It’s kill or be killed |
| So watch out for the villain — he’s ill |
| I’m slinging rap, swinging bats like I’m in little league still |
| Sniffing cocaine off a coin with Kennedy’s grill |
| Cough from a joint while I’m crushing my enemies will |
| I’m a homicidal Hercules, doggie, I’m an urban myth |
| I swerve the whip and get my dick sucked while on my work release |
| I give these rappers bad advice and a nervous twitch |
| Penetrate and innovate, a renegade, I murder shit |
| I’m a real wolf |
| With the Underworld clique |
| I ain’t racist just 'cause I split your head to the white meat |
| The missing link Yeti-Sasquatch, yeah I might be |
| This shit’s real — distribute guns in the kids meal |
| Open the box, hold the Glock, bust a shot through the windshield |
| The manifestation of evil stay alive and breathing |
| I’m Satan’s fitness trainer, exercising demons |
| Respect the shooter, I’ll find the bastard |
| Hell, my loaded pistol is a fire hazard |
| My dick stays hard in graveyards, you pray hard |
| As I make love to Adolf Hitler’s carcass |
| Call me a nigga as I lick his heartless chest |
| I guess these skinhead Nazis wanna get retarded |
| Why? |
| 'Cause I’m fucking your leader all in his ass |
| Speak to him in Hebrew, fuck the Führer until he’s back, dead again |
| Tell the Aryans I’m burying my head right in his belly |
| And it’s scary 'cause I’m licking his mustache |
| Son of a killer, Mr. fucking grimey |
| SAS 22nd regiment limey |
| Born in a barn with my eyes wide open |
| Inspired by debacles since I came out the fallopian |
| We don’t fuck around, got permits to carry |
| Everybody walks around like Dirty fucking Harry |
| Don’t play my town, 'cause we will fucking bury you |
| Carry you to a farm cut off your arms, chewed up by animals |
| On your mark, get set, ready to go |
| Green light, checkered flag, time to get that dough |
| And ayo, in the underworld I’m half-wolf and half-lycan |
| Swing the Excalibur, barbaric viking |
| Vicodin, marijuana, cocaine, the Grateful Dead |
| Average rapper kidnapping |
| Be sure to make your bed |
| When they battle me fatality take your head |
| And write a rhyme with your blood |
| The page’s painted red |
| I’m a real wolf |
| With the Underworld clique |
| I’m the king of Castle Greyskull |
| My grey matter’s powerful as Grey Hulk |
| I’m Zartan, I’m Tarzan before he went to Greystroke |
| My brain’s broke, slang dope |
| And when I speak my slang’s dope |
| You’re soft as fuck — your whole album is a gay joke |
| Rap’s lethal, spit a sixteen at you |
| We’ll paint the ceiling with your brains like the Sistine Chapel |
| I’m the cardinal of carnage, the poisonous priest |
| Don’t bother praying to your God |
| There’s no avoiding this beast |
| You ain’t about that life |
| You a bastard that won’t attack |
| I’m the type to grab a knife |
| And I’m stabbing you with it backwards |
| I’m backslapping wack ass non-rappers |
| Snatch the breath out of you faster than asthma without a gas mask |
| I lace hash, a heinous figure |
| Slash-murderer, I’m burning these legacy killers |
| Putting mo' metal in niggas than robotic mechanisms |
| Kill his woman and brag about it in prison |
| Rambo-knife, show you what bloody is |
| You call it a dead cop, I call it a bloody pig |
| You think your hands nice money? |
| You’s a funny kid |
| You next to get molly-whopped like your buddy did |
| The Ruger Blackhawk, stick it in the dunny rib |
| Throw him in the fucking bathroom like Sunny did |
| The biggest show in your career; |
| like a hundred kids |
| The AR-15 blew off like a hundred wigs |
| Grim reaper to Ariel Castro, Adam Lanza, James Holmes |
| Flame on, no it ain’t wrong when I’mma have them plans for cancer |
| Then land ya in the hands of tense Panthers |
| Damned with antlers to ram ya man Pampers |
| Scrams the answer, no evil understands ya |
| Grandeur and like you were three times the word lambda |
| I’ll be the damper on a clan’s fam’s camper |
| Necromancer drinking vodka and Fanta with Santa |
| I’m a real wolf |
| With the Underworld clique |