Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Soldier's Logic, artist - Diabolic. Album song Liar and a Thief, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 05.04.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Warhorse
Song language: English
Soldier's Logic |
Soldier’s logic, capture the essence and hold it hostage |
Like passengers controlling cockpits with loaded Glock clips |
Won’t stop 'til pigs fly, solar comets |
Chased by exploding rockets through hell while it’s frozen solid |
See, Nostradamus predicted the approach of 'Bolic |
With a weapon arm like Megatron’s shoulder socket |
Cause I’m the future, hold court and prosecute ya |
'Til I cock the Ruger and you’re fucking history like Kama Sutra |
I’m worshiped like God or Buddha, or the tribe of Judah |
Cause my Medulla oblongata got a cocked bazooka |
And I’ll just shoot ya, while vagabonds tag along |
Who are trained to operate on soldiers like Trapper John |
Who wanna bet I’m sick as seven plagues of Babylon? |
Let’s shake on it, I’ll slap your palm so hard I’ll snap your arm |
The battle’s on and you’ll realize God is vengeful |
With the odds against you like suicide bombing Muhammad’s temple |
I’m monumental, so I’ma go from non-essential |
To a memory mentioned next to «Can it Be All So Simple?» |
But can’t afford to sell, momma never wore Chanel |
I was born during a five alarm firestorm in hell |
And I swore to tell the story, how we fell from glory |
So throw Hades in reverse — back the hell up off me! |
You don’t have the balls to deal with a Neanderthal |
Catapulting dead bodies over the king’s castle walls |
This what happens when you mix a lot of beer with a lot more weed, |
multiplied by 15 bar fights. |
This Diabolic, nigga! |
This Rebel Arms, muthafucka! |
Stomp the shit out you! |
Fuck everything you stand for! |
I’ll never taste my pride, I’ll never change, never saying die |
Like a native tribe that’s fighting smallpox they provide |
Fuck the game, I’ll take it by storm and break inside |
And maybe I’d flood the streets with crack like it’s '85 |
Rainy skies and clouds will form, then crowds will swarm |
To hear my album songs, kneel down and bow before 'em |
Sound the horns, I arrived in a crown of thorns |
To powerbomb blocks when I drop like Bausch & Lomb |
Now it’s on, took a breath of air, said a prayer |
Threw you down a flight of heaven’s stairs into the devil’s lair |
And I continue this genocide with Engineer |
'til they light up our electric chairs like fluorescent flares |
Never cared if what goes around comes back around |
The track is down like K-9 units with basset hounds |
These are battlegrounds, I watch them unfold |
And see them turn men to animals like Dr. Moreau |
So I run into the lion’s den with a squad of iron men |
Spitting like there’s viral stem cells in my sinus phlegm |
I’ll die and rise again, then make water wine |
Cuz I ride driving bent, and drink all the time |
Don’t wanna sign to a label I’ll never need |
I’m a genetic breed doing more legwork than centipedes |
Best believe I’d bleed to set us free |
And I’m blessed to be real, that’s why there’s soldiers here next to me |
Yeah! |
We bang out 'til your muthafuckin medulla oblongata hang out, man! |
This Diabolic! |
He’s a liar! |
He’s a thief! |
He’s a goon! |
He’s a muthafuckin |
criminal! |
He’s a degenerate louse! |
He’s a drunk! |
Hahahaha! |
And that’s my |
muthafuckin dude! |
I’m Poison Pen! |
Money Shot, P! |
Wipe it off your chin and |
gargle it down, muthafucka! |
Rebel Arms all day! |
Yo, you ever got centipeded |
before? |
That’s getting stomped by fifty dudes! |
That’s a hundred feet! |
That’s what Rebel Arms is, we centipedes, nigga! |
Yo, I been waiting for this |
album a long time man, you know what I’m saying? |
So yo check this out, |
I’mma sit the fuck back. |
I got a leader right here right next to me in the lab. |
Yo Southpaw, crack them muthafuckin bottles, man! |
Fuck y’all niggas |