| You’re not gon' believe this!
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| This is really happening, everybody stand up
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| Oh! |
| Tech N9na! |
| Chino XL! |
| Everybody rise!
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| (Fire!) It’s like hell on one song
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| (Fire!) It’s like the whole hell on one song
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| (Untamable, nonflammable)
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| One stage, one hell, one song
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| Instead of hard-ass niggas they bring women
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| And they mimickin' men again, when it spin it’s freakin' feminine
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| Shit is sugar and cinnamon, this is hood and it’s hittin'
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| Adrenaline, sinister sin again, niggas diminishin'
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| Finishin' puffs, let thy fags bat they eyelash
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| I clash with industry enemies, kiss my ass
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| If you think you runnin' with my cash
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| Ain’t no tellin' what kind of the calibers fly past
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| Soo-woop in this, my loot’s in it, so I’mma shoot with it
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| Boosted it, my crew spit it, like Amaru in that Juice flitick
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| Now Ceremi’s necktie is loose fitted
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| N9na left 'em layin' like a razor blade noose did it, who’s with it?
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| Tech N9na and Chino’s Katrina flow wreck and kill Nemo
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| Let’s team up with lingo, that’ll bring us mo' chips than Casino
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| Now everyone’s paid, maybe cause the gun’s played
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| N9na and Chino XL, one song, one stage
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| I’ll smoke you, like a detriment to the environment
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| While you stand in astonishment wondering where the sun went
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| Abandonment in war, hesitant after the message I sent
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| You’re praying that I’m catholic and murder’s what I’m giving up for lent
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| The road that I’m traveling is sharper than the surgeon’s scalpel
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| When the screams of death * * militant Adam’s apple *
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| Acid *, feeling like a slave when he was shackled and
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| More beef than even the IRS and Willie Nelson was in
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| Making the venomous cringe in the head
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| Fortune, torture, scorching my skin, still injected into my skeleton
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| No embellishing, poison pen, prodigal protestant, modest
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| Been particularly partial to hide the harsh arsenal
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| Inside a sparse hospital, spacy bars like Mars, completely orbital
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| Ain’t a record company that can market you
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| Chino the narcissist, heartless hunter, I will carcass you
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| God said, «Let there be light»
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| I said, «I got you, my nigga, tonight, but that’s only cause you asked nice»
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| My occupation spit sick lyrics outta my mouth
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| I clocked in the job when I was nine and I’m never clocking out
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| Face it, every verse Chino basically kills
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| So I stick to the script like an actor with no improvisational skills
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| Dudes mad that what I’m recording is more important
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| Than adopted an orphan or Slick Rick being deported
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| Or the bootlegged Jordan you wore and you tore in Florida
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| Fallin' for a foreigner whore in a Porsche, now she extortin' ya
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| Sorry ya can’t get my warrior formula, you’re too dumb
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| Screaming 'bout money and bitches, nigga, you ain’t got neither one
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| The verbal clergyman serving disturbing effects
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| With permanent Terminix for ticks that’s coming out the woodwork next
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| C-Cartridge spitter, surviving the harshest artic winter
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| Lethargic winner, sinner, still centered as one of Gods'
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| Incredible carnivorous critters, sicker, killer arch
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| Chino did for lyrics what the movie Jaws did for sharks
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| Lyrical Jesus and Tech N9ne, spaz, promo
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| Pass loco, y’all rappers are mad homo, cash bonos |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hell Song , by - Chino XL. Song from the album RICANstruction: The Black Rosary, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп