Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Torcher, artist - DZK.
Date of issue: 23.04.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Torcher |
It’s futile for you to do battle with a mutant who chews gravel |
And spews jagged matter back at dudes asking to grapple |
I’m used to abusive battering, and by «used to abusive battering» |
I actually mean, my boot’s used to moving through asses, when |
You, bastards attempt to pen raps attackin a cat of my stature |
And it’s sad to hafta blast a backpacker so bad that |
They hafta attach flaps of skin grafting and plastic limbs |
After our match, when I win, just to patch him back again |
What matters is, I’ve mastered every path of my craft so accurate |
Every track I spit, rapidly adds to the status I have as «sick» |
Which would be the shit, except when I rap a verse, nervous kids |
Are grabbing a gas mask, and missing the first half of my shit |
I flatten average men with a pad and pen, I’ll fashion a diss |
So immaculate I hafta rap it with a cackle and grin |
I’m past the status of Devils Advocate, attracted to sin |
The baddest, you can’t even begin imagine the madness within |
This is your warning, I’m a force to be reckoned with |
My tongue’s a torch that scorches when the record spins |
Fuck authority, I’d torture the president |
It’s surely evident I’m as morbid as war veterans |
I spit that horror-core shit and deliver rhetoric, so sadistic |
Christians switch directions, when I’m headed in the direction |
They’re headed in, and I’m better than any competitor |
Ready to sever the head of a meddler, deadly as ever, the shit is inevitable |
I sip liquor, get pissed, disfigure a chick’s pretty face with |
A quick flip of my wrist, scraping razors hit, breakin the skin |
And then, I’m lickin the places I slit, to taste what I did |
I’m basically sayin, «mentally insane» is too tame for what I’ve been |
Since the eighty’s and I’m saying I’m WAY crazier since then |
I stay in a state of in-tense, meditative hate and stay bent |
From medication meant to replace sedation with concentration and |
Make you creative and unafraid to display it in the same sense |
So I’m taping my prey’s faces and takin em to a basement in |
A vacant wasteland to participate in strange operations |
Like making em trade veins with an AIDS patient and then I’m unchaining em |
And lettin em escape so I can chase em and video tape the mayhem |
I’m playin with prayin victims laying naked, restricted with thick |
Fitted restraints, I’m lifting, painfully bending tense ligament |
Tissue, which extends when I inch the six sensitive suspension |
Instruments in sixty demented and sequentially different increments |
I’m disenchanted with music industry management so I’m plannin |
To ram a van fulla flammable cans through every damn window I can |
And park in the lobby of every labels office and demand coffee |
From every A& R, I cross, cuz that’s what their fuckin job should be |
And if they don’t comply with it, I’m flippin my lit cigarette skyward |
And we can all fry in a pile, cuz I’m flying higher than Richard Pryor |
And I’m dying to see if your cheap attire can defy the heat from my lighter |
When I try to light a piece of it on fire, you ready die, sir? |
Whoever’s in charge of these super-stars, gets a boot to the dome |
For signing rhymers who couldn’t find a useful line on the road |
It’s time for new talent to rise and re-define how to flow |
And challenge those in power, so now it’s time go for the throat |
And then it’s game over for the same jokers, in the range rovers |
Focus, your reigns over, dope chains is taken and broken |
Ya bones poking, ya brains smokin, it’s so hopeless, I’m waiting to open |
Your show, so I go can loco and spray ya clothes with a flame thrower |