Lyrics The Hunter Becomes The Haunted - DKRapArtist, Dan Bull

The Hunter Becomes The Haunted

Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hi, my name’s Daniel Robinson, I’m the ghost that’s been haunting your house
I’m 77 years old, I was murdered and butchered right there on the couch
I hear you calling my name and I sure as hell wouldn’t be running my mouth
I could be a spirit, a banshee, a demon, but I’m never leaving, that’s without
a doubt
You ask me to give you a sign so I throw shit around, and start ringing the
phone
You and your mum have got something in common, cause both of you looking around
for a bone
Don’t let me catch you alone, you should be watching your tone!
I hear you scream Bloody Mary again, then I’m coming and hunting you down,
and I’ll rip out your throat
I see you with the EMF you’re seeing 3 at best, and 5 is what you’re plading for
Standing round in freezing temps you start to see your breath, you place a cam
to see th orbs
All this trouble for a check, you’re betting me your neck, for pictures of a
Ouija board
Holding up the crucifix, you start to disrespect, I’m sending you to see the
lord
Ima start draining your sanity, when I can hunt you the front door is getting
locked
I’m gonna tell you I’ll kill you, you’re meeting your death if you talk through
a spirit box
Torch get to flashing when I come to torture you, and if I catch you you’re
getting dropped
Watch when I send you a threat through my ghost writing, you know my hunting
will never stop
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hunt, kill
Hi, my name’s Daniel Bull, I’m the bloke who was brought to this house
A professional skeptical secular exorcist, recommending that you ought to get
out
I’m calling your name, I’m intending to render you into a theory disproved
I’m just bopping to the ominous knocking in here, because it’s the eeriest
groove
Did you think that I’d really be spooked?
Be serious dude, I’m clearly just too
Inexperienced to feel the fear some idiots do, delirious douches, are all like.
Believe me, it’s true, I’ve seen them, it’s proof, yeah and I’m Jesus to boot
If I’d be in your shoes I’d be leaving here soon, cause I’m cleaning the rooms
of your footprints
Even when I’m in the silliest mood, I’ll be seeing this through and removing
corruptions
Pull up floorboards and of course there’s a corpse of a husband,
that’s been causing disruption
Where are all my hot demon bitches?
This is all I need a dead pensioner
There must have been a Victorian whore in the bedroom, at some point hence,
I must mention her
Feel the tension, I’m watching phenomena on my spectrometer’s flickering screen
Feel a shiver, but I’m not afraid, it’s the radiators that could do with a bleed
My position’s apparition abolition, I feel it’s done so I dash for the kitchen
Drat, I didn’t bring a bag of ammunition did I?
No, don’t cut the transmission!