Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Paragraphs of Murder , by - Celph Titled. Release date: 28.07.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| I strike when the iron’s hot |
| And form an unemployment line for my bullets when I fire shots |
| That’s the boss word (uh!) in the tree with my Mossberg |
| Kevlar vest, camouflage suit made of moss and birds (aah!) |
| You at a loss for words jerk look dumb as hell (stupid!) |
| It’s mathematics talk (and what?) and numbers tell |
| So save your ticket-stub (why?) cause I will click the snub |
| Strap you in a fuckin' crash test dummy collision truck |
| Grand Daddy Grenade Man spit, on some caveman shit |
| My ape hand hit, your nose and left your Ray-Bans split (hahaha) |
| My .38 I stay with (yup), but that’s just the backup plan |
| In case the motherfuckin' Mac-11 jam (brrrrraaa) |
| Matter of fact, I’m causin' cataracts with just one glance |
| Take one stance, my trigger finger do the Humpty Hump dance |
| (uhh!) Y’all ain’t puttin' heat down (nah), y’all put the seat down |
| Sit down and take a piss, flagrant trick; |
| you’s a blatant bitch! |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| I ain’t scared of Rosemary’s baby or Damien the Omen |
| I done been to Hell, it’s lame; |
| I slit Satan’s throat open (grr) |
| And sat on the throne for a while, it was too hot though |
| Still used the cold steel to blast the sauce out your taco (bang!) |
| Take nine off a thousand grams, watch me work it back in |
| Fuck a Louis bag, I keep my stacks in a trash bin (uhh!) |
| Ready for action, shoot chunks off your cheek (yeah!) |
| Fix your physique, it’s my weight loss technique (aah!) |
| Geek you called the cops on me, but they can’t phase a thug |
| They playin' with Raiden (what!), send the shock back through the taser plug |
| Power of Magneto, lift the Glocks out of their holsters |
| Squeeze the triggers and rock La Familia like Jehovah |
| Twelve gauge, if I pop it I’m dead wrong (uh-huh) |
| Leave the back of your head like Sonic the Hedgehog (damn!) |
| Boy I put gats to sternums and blast the burner (bwao!) |
| The motherfuckin' sarin gas server, It’s Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder |
| Paragraphs of Murder |
| Murder, Murder, Murder… |