Lyrics Kill Bill O'Reilly (Dirty) - East Coast Avengers

Kill Bill O'Reilly (Dirty)

I wipe the dirt from my hands as I walk from your grave
Those ain’t facts, those are lies in the statements you made
So we gotta get em get em
We gotta kill em kill em
We gotta get em get em
We gotta kill em kill em
You don’t believe homeless vets exist (Shut up)
You put a spin on everything like the Exorcist
You a lying coward, lost soul, most statements you make are not so
That’s how chicken hawks roll
I find the fact that you a Fox News asshole
Ironic, cause you never been in a foxhole
I hope that you rot slow
You and your talk show
No Spin Zone
That’s a vertigo inferno with fire and brimstone
We seeing all your neo-con bullshit
Fuck a pressroom, you want the president pulpit
I cringe
At your right-wing lunatic fringe
There’s no elegant speech
To shelter beliefs
Hate dominates like the Celts in the east
Michelle Malkin wants to snitch like you’re telling police
She oughta be shot
They gotta be stopped
Infrared to Bill O’Reilly’s head, that’s the key spot
I’m not a violent man but actually your blasphemy
Is badgering me to blast you and your factual inaccuracy
Naturally, media matters to me
So we gotta shut down Fox News, that’s the way it has to be
Dear Bill, I’d like you to get your mouth
Off that conservative cock long enough to sit and talk it out
Scratch that, let’s backtrack, I’ll stalk your house
Knock you out, gag your mouth, drag you out, thought this out
I wanna hurt you, immerse you in torture
Fuck making fun of you in punch lines
I’d rather kill your family in front of you by lunch time
A one lock execution at sunshine
It’s crunch time?
Let’s take it to the front line
Bless the union of marriage?
Oh that’s classic!
Dick in your hand making phone calls to Andrea Mackris
You got it backwards
Phone sex leading to threats to get her flat up on your mattress
Is as sick as the list of adjectives put upon your favorite actresses in your
book
No spin, so grim, you borderline rapist, sexist, racist
Makeshift talking head celebrity that need a facelift
I transcribed all your lies till my dome was sore
Separated all your letters like an underscore
I’m in your driveway like «Bill O, what you running for?»
You want beef but you’d never send your son to war
That’s my favorite reason but I got a hundred more
You a political prostitute, a money whore
Your ass is upper class saying that you come from poor backgrounds
You need to get smacked down with guns galore
Or something more hardcore
Slasher flick, mashed to bits, scattered
Your chitter chatter is littered with little that matters
You mad hatter blabbering on, I’m deadpan
Steady-handed, kill you on a webcam
Body battered till I got red hands
And leave trail of dead fam (aha, damn)
That’s a Youtube number one download
Dump you at the end of your town’s road
Or hang you like Benito Mussolini if the ground’s cold
You’re the worst person on the planet, credit yourself
You mutilate a nominee now you edit yourself
Plus your lawsuit proves it, Bill, you read it yourself
You’re a sick man, you’re better off deading yourself
Pan left, maximum carnage like Grand Theft
Pan right, see the mic through the antichrist chest
O’Reilly gets a shanking, he’s a liar, falsifier
And I’m a wolf out for his blood till he retires