| Hotel, motel, holy ghost
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| Razor blade, jailbait, over dose
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| Woke up pristine no one knows
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| What you did last winter in the Poconos
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| Ayo, he got the glass eye squint
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| Fab five time out and the hide out kids
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| Honey comb collective and the tae-bo kick
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| Little Billy posted by the blinds loaded
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| No shit, the swivel of the bar stool baddy
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| Pimp lane signal the single car pool caddy
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| Water witching the grinch in his large flat feet
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| Stitching his initials in skins and begin laughing
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| Bring back his body keep frosty
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| The eyes in the hill won’t be still till they see raw meat
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| Hung from a hook in a nook of the barns loft beams
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| Auctioned and sold to the farmer in Charles charging
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| Antenna fender remember the raw dealings
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| Hard wired fired the liars abroad stealing
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| Spinning wheels for the meal of the dog heeling
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| Your hands under my feet and OG’ing the caught feelings
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| Dressed in his sloppy suit
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| You can hear him screaming from the inside of the locker room
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| Just another day in paradise pastrami chew
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| That leaves you face caved Aes make um Wally moose
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| Come on you can trust me
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| There’s room on the floor and more in the front seat
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| The stuff in the trunk is just drugs and punk zines
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| No I’ve never driven and yes, death becomes me
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| Hail the king, hail a cab, hail satan
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| Hail Zoul and the full that I’m paid in
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| Hail the queen, hail a chief, hail caesar
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| Hail mary and carry in the believers
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| Rescue gunner 5 by the frozen rope
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| Test tube butterfly swollen throat
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| Death cruise trucker bribe know one knows
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| What you did last summer in the Poconos
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| The rope-a-dope defense, close with it’s own p. |
| s
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| «kick rocks», city a necropolis for clipped locks
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| Tire piles, broken bones, cloven toe, piss-pot
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| Troma quotes exploding onto rotoscoped film stock
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| Firecane, half comotose, all killshot
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| Cough up, terrifying tales from the chaw cup
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| Twinkle twinkle little sinkhole, drinking decorative flamingos
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| Stippling a plastic lawn, picket fences, cats and dogs
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| Mallon juke left in bumper-to-bumper hazards on
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| Balance off, blackout, back for the Munsters marathon
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| Gather bad medicine, duffel bag, canteen, etch a sketch
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| Hula popper, cash, plaid pendleton
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| Smash and grab everything tetris’d in the sprinter
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| With the i’d rather be cutting the head off a serpent sticker
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| Perfect, dead youth flowin old habits
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| The getaway bus ride only so magic
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| Fact, he mostly know the company of roustabouts
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| Icky rathskellars where they sell lunch with the power out
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| Our gang, wallop on some honestly it’s now or now
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| Donkey in his crosshairs, Bobby taking Bowser down |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Poconos , by - Hail Mary Mallon. Song from the album Are You Gonna Eat That?, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп