Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gladiator Shit, artist - Gangrene. Date of issue: 23.01.2012
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gladiator Shit |
| Yea, yea, yea, yea |
| What? |
| What? |
| Show you how to kill people bitch |
| Gangrene, grene, grene |
| I’m a real gladiator |
| I grab a hater |
| Like Al-Qaida |
| Pray to your savior |
| Then meet the maker |
| I rain razor stain |
| Paint them with brains |
| Hanging like Wes Craven made it |
| West favorite playground, I’m fowl |
| The fowl mouth faded |
| Cali wow staler spawn |
| Rip you apart yo |
| Like 300 Spartans |
| And two arsons |
| I move carcasses |
| Y’all don’t want to start these architects |
| Michelangelo, archangel |
| To mark up your set |
| Get set |
| Go |
| From every angle I strangle your neck |
| Disconnect your lungs from your chest |
| That’s taking your breath |
| Picking up some rats where you rest |
| Then piss on your steps |
| Disrespectful |
| But you bitch |
| This shit’s sick |
| I’m the first Gangrene from the ditch |
| There’s gutter water |
| And there’s nothing quite like this |
| We push them harder |
| And I don’t care if it’s for honor |
| Or get the father on a summer martyr |
| Partner I slaughter harder than lava |
| You don’t want a war with us |
| We growing us |
| There’s more of us |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Man, I’m a poor bringer |
| Bear winger, mud slinger |
| Rapping muscle spasm |
| The gun finger |
| I’m going rings around |
| Under the wingers and bump singers |
| Hit them with dump stingers |
| Cave men, club swingers and blood drinkers |
| You know |
| Double G style display |
| Got your fake, give a fake |
| Gasoline bath |
| Art’s an X sprayed on your parade |
| Scooby Doo y’all |
| Scooby Doo y’all |
| Rappers will prove prowl |
| I’m Cool Aid man |
| Coming through your fucking wall |
| I use a bone saw |
| To cut your ears and your nose off |
| Arms, legs, fingers and toes off |
| They drink Promithisine |
| And smokers cliff over the body |
| And doze off |
| Scene of the crime |
| Yellow tape roped off |
| Bird do this |
| My scalpel gets played |
| Chips on the chop and block |
| While I’m canoeing through every sewage |
| Gladiator style |
| Where my candles animals |
| A helmet and sandals |
| Poke holes through you panels |
| And draw arrows |
| You don’t want a war with us |
| We growing us |
| There’s more of us |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| You know the boy spent a kilo of cocaine |
| He insane |
| Forced to listen her |
| To get the picture and ten frames |
| I flush the Mont Blanc |
| Post the coco like Noah |
| Toast blowers |
| Cause that’s like … |
| Soldier, the red October |
| The red hot toasters |
| Rocking mittens up in the kitchen |
| They bread pie holders |
| Solders |
| Throwing boulders |
| Blow your head off your … |
| Hardcore as the polish |
| I know Cali side sign |
| Throwers and hit rollers |
| That row like the rollers |
| Mommy just won’t admit |
| Your panties slimy like Oprah |
| Bap and over-gripping |
| The arm and the soap a |
| Deal closer |
| Muscle and weight |
| Hustle a trade |
| King of the Thief City |
| Kurt Russell escaped |
| Talking to eight |
| Stuck in the wait |
| Like the face of the presidents |
| In my residence |
| That stuffed in my safe |
| Celebrate with a bucket of grapes |
| You fucking with crazy |
| It’s simple times for both of us |
| The discussion is fate |
| You don’t want a war with us |
| We growing us |
| There’s more of us |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| Yea, I’m on my gladiator shit |
| I heard a kerosene explosion |
| Boom |
| Frigging life |
| Mother said |
| What the hell is that |
| I seen your … |
| Hawaiian through my frigging damn wall |
| And I salute them |
| The house is on fire |
| Frigging I knew it |
| Frigging I heard it |
| Frigging asking |