| Usin my inhibitions, callin my intuitions
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| Something’s goin on if I’m feelin not superstitious
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| I’m vicious, I’m trapped inside the paradox
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| When my thoughts get twisted like some dreadlocks
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| I never or ever wondered 'bout the Voodoo
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| I sing the Voodoo, and now my deepest fears is comin through
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| I never loved ya, but I hate ya Isle
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| How could I love you, how, because I hate you know
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| So when you, I take you under, wit the wicked men
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| And wit the wickedness, I make a preacher slit his fuckin wrist
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| No comin near me, when I’m thinkin this
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| Cuz when I’m thinkin this, I’m thinkin suicidalist, uh So back up off me, bust a brain sale, I bust a brain cell
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| I fall asleep and dream about hell
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| Some wonder why I’m even callin ya The sky is fallin y’all, but after all it’s my deepest feeling
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| Morty (nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide)
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| Morty (how you gon hide from the fears inside)
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| Can’t decode dependencies, suicidal tendencies
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| Brain your melt down, street lobotomy
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| Claustrophobia, locked in the pine box
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| Now I lay me down to sleep, six feet deep
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| Closed Casket, just another basket case
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| Not a mannequin, but a mad man, so you panic kid
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| Run from it, everybody scared, so you’re callin out
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| Buckshots, shotgun blast, now you fallin out
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| Everybody hide from the deepest fears inside
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| Watch me and my man Morty take you on a murder ride
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| Suicide symptoms of the sanity, I’m blankin out
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| Polly want a cracker, but I’m never ever crankin out
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| Call me Dr. Frankenstein, dead bodies thinkin I’m
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| Gonna get, wit ya, when I hit ya, I’mma slit ya Nobody can hold me, other safe is clear
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| Buried alive in the pine box is my deepest fear
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| It’s ever so clear, my deepest fear is to hit the screens
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| The sounds of a madman, embattled in Morty’s Theme
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| I dream, and nightmares come true, simply voodoo
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| Hallucinatin visions of killin you
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| The thought of even thinkin that, I think I need a drink
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| In fact I think I need some therapy cuz ain’t nobody helpin me Since I got no excuses, for mental abuses, I’m losin faith
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| My only fear is to love instead of hate you
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| Born and bred, gone dead, my mind bled
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| Every time the Holy Bible was read
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| To say that I love consciousness, and wound up wit wicked ways
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| Think about Voodoo dolls, runnin wild on my last days
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| Spit wit Morty, my shorty, no ventriloquist
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| Esham the Unholy, straight suicidalist |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Morty's Theme, artist - Esham. Album song Bootleg (From the Lost Vault) Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп