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