Lyrics Seven - Boondox

Seven

A tisket, A tasket
The Skarecrows out his casket
Turn off the lights and lock the door
Prayin’that he passes
A vision of the dead in the embread backwoods
Muthafucker born inside a toolshead
Momma never loved me never gave me no attention
Daddy was a rapist 30 years up state Fulton County Prison
And i was raised by my own will
Surviving off of scrapes of bones, bear traps, and road kill
Spending my days and my nights all alone
And my mind is gone is something wong with my dome
Should have put me in a tomb i didnt ask for this life
When they cut me out the womb with a dull pocket knife
Now i walk with a sight and a murderous ability
Im cough and mutherfucker feel with hostility
Cracked out and im gone off that moon shine
100 dated of proof why im made from a muskadine
Out in these cornfields
Learning all these wicked skills
Swingin, slicing, choppin, dicing
Country boy born to kill
A demon spawn
The child of a bastard son
Seven born of seven and the
Seventh child fathered one
A soul black full of pain
Bodies in the field
Blood pourin’like rain
Dont get lost in the woods
In yo black expidition
On the dark dirt roads
So suspecious
Just though some ditches
Hedlights flicker and its got u turning switches
Now u so damn scarred u bout to shit in yo brentches
You cant think straight all u hear is heavy breathing
All your eyes just deceving what it is that u seeing
When i pull up on the ankle
Pristol in ther floorboard
Blast out ya back glass
Got u screamin"No No"
You fixing to know the reason and u about to find out
What it is to suffer with a rusty blade in your mouth
No where to run
No where to hide
Being stalked by the Skarecrow
The bloodline of Malaki
I hear these voices talkin they wont leave me along
Tell me snatch this bitch up by her hair and drag her home
Over my shoulder in the back of a pick up truck
Cant wait to get her home and hold her, bleed her, then chop her up A tisket, A tasket
The Skarecrows out his casket
Turn off the lights and lock the door
Prayin’that he passes
A tisket, A tasket
The Skarecrows out his casket
Turn off the lights and lock the door
Prayin’that he passes