Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sin City, artist - Burke The JurkeDate of issue: 03.11.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Sin City |
| This is all ours, feel the force of the raw power |
| A new wave vacant, call me back at the God hour |
| You cats is all cowards, straight cocksuckers |
| Homosexual rappers, you could never fuck us |
| You get your arms chopped off, yeah, we bring the ruckus |
| Twist dutchs, put the blunt out on the face of gutless |
| Weak cats, we shop, pop, 'em, Jon 'Dock 'em |
| Blam, blam 'em, homicide 'em, it’s not a problem |
| Heavy lung, metallic musket, puffing a dust spliff |
| got me on some shit like, «Fuck this» |
| Cannibal corpse, blood thirsty, animal thought |
| Life exits its shell when the cannon goes off |
| Spinal tap, vertebrae cracked, Chris Reeve you |
| Escape from Jake in the gray Buick Regal |
| We all stay illegal, men are created equal |
| Until I cut they body in half with the black Desert Eagle |
| Bow down? |
| Kiss the Converse, the rhyme burst berserk |
| Tears in my eyes and blood on my shirt |
| It’s evil, demented, held down, cemented |
| Dimension is for F-dation, I’m reppin' it hard |
| If I’m locked up, I spit rhymes when I step in the yard |
| And I get love from the thugs, it’s no weapons involved |
| You’s a bitch, you getting fucked, it’s a lesson to y’all |
| If you a snitch, you getting bucked when I step in the door |
| Burke and Vanderslice, damn your life, you’re a man, stand and fight |
| I jab you with the left, don’t let me land my right |
| Crush your face like a can of sprite |
| Cops cuff my hands tight, read Miranda rights |
| Kids in the alleyways, sniffing grams of glass and ice |
| Cooking dope on the spoon under candle lights |
| Living the glamour life, you should scram, aight? |
| 'Cause if your man gets tight then disaster strikes |
| I’ll bust your dome and crush your bones |
| Tuck you, thrust the chrome and leave me the fuck alone |
| Don’t step in my way, put your weapon away |
| Or you’ll meet death in a day and your flesh will decay |
| I’ll leave you with a message, learn a lesson today |
| Cut your head and give your brain a ten second delay |
| You should be expecting the worse, get stretched in a hearse |
| I’ll let you rest in the dirt just for messing with Burke, bitch |
| Body bag beat down, burst is bodacious |
| Bullinger a beat down worse than Joe Frasier |
| Verse Ali, Mayweather, way better to save ya |
| Sugar Shane sweet and low, Saccharin’s the flavor |
| For these sweet-ass diabetic hypoglycemic |
| Sugar shock 'round the clock MCs like, «Y'all beat it» |
| Fuck out of here, no, you can’t make another dollar here |
| Full throttle, hollow, nostril swallow, now it’s out of here |
| Greg the Hammer Valentine, figure four leg lock |
| VA TEC-9, Columbine, caught a head shot |
| Armor like fifteen, Washington Street scene |
| Killer all morning, tarot card make your neat lean |
| DC sniper shot, work in the dungeon |
| Full metal jacket blacksmith at your function |
| Stanley Kubrick, rue shit, orange clockwork |
| Reprogram your whole plans with a hot verse |
| The Dutchmen, destroy, display disaster |
| Dynamite detonate, dedicated demastered |
| The monster, Krueger, Voorhees, Mike Myers |
| Norman Bates in them Bathing Apes through the mic wire |
| Live baller, Clive Barker, the HP love craft |
| Weird science fiction, diction cause a bloodbath |
| They love that, chop it and bag it, let the funds stack |
| Vanderslice shit, type quick on a rough track |