
Date of issue: 28.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Uncle Howie
Song language: English
World War Hulk |
My aura is that of Moses in the Torah |
Nineteen eighty-nine on tour with Sepultura |
Laughing while blasting Sabbath on acid |
It’s the anthem |
Rest in peace Ruck, I throw a tantrum |
I’m the illest of Bills, the realest of goons |
A fucking savage |
Pull out my dick and piss on your shoes |
Is Jay Z Illuminati? |
Bohemian hov, alien roves |
Elohemian probes realer than reptilian skulls |
Trade crafts so nobody know who really involved |
So much angel dust in my blood, I’m nearly embalmed |
Blotter acid, Bobby Bronson, splatter cops with shotguns |
Shots of vodka, shot the spot up with a box of Mossbergs |
The bombs from the planes whistling slow |
Always get paid, step in on that Dominican blow |
Young sadist, the iron rabbi, selling crack in Vegas |
Space Invaders, Uncle Howie cooked 'em but he made 'em taste it |
Under your futon, trying to pop your wig out |
By the 69th precinct, dying to take a pig out |
No interference, 36 buildings, all clearance |
Shoutout to bugger on the bus, rob bitches for their earrings |
Rap Gary Holt, we cut these posers into veggie dumplings |
Catch me indictment trying to cop the heavy something |
Lord of detergent, black rabbi, feast of perversions |
My lawyer’s coked out, he a beast 'cause it’s always urgent |
The mega shells Bushmasters when I rock Gazelles |
MK Ultra, gunfire and sulfur, trapping at hotels |
Cocaine eggs dipped in colors, it ain’t close to Easter |
Farragut and Ralph, the dope spot next to Tony’s Pizza |
Got a thousand faces, this is just one of many |
Two-thousand twenty, my blood fetish is customary |
Stories of my demise have been reported |
A mission sent for reconnaissance of the slaughtered |
With this order, I’m the prince of disorder |
I’m alive, a survivor without a mention of water |
Your attempts have been thwarted |
All attempts have been thwarted |
My intentions of vengeance are engines for Rigor Mortis |
Entrances of the aura intense as if I record 'em |
But sentences written on the park benches I was brought up on |
Lyrics jotted on my skin and blood-written |
Wasn’t around in my head, shit I was bug-bitten |
Bedridden, drug smitten, in and out of love with 'em |
It’s like I found what I said inside a drug kitchen |
Picture Dominican blow with a boatload to sell |
Two bitches wired of the 'Gnac, they both from Brazil |
Breath reeking of soak or pussy, Coco Chanel |
Jesus hanging from my neck hoping I don’t go to hell |
Another afternoon on a dog day |
Word to God I’m evolved in a hard way |
For you to fuck with me stupid that would be an odd play |
How quickly we can turn this shit to bullets over Broadway |
Car thief jumper, Nazi thumper |
New-school Archie Bunker, watch me hunker |
Down impossibly be drunk again dumb fuck |
And beat the Liberace batty boy punk up, I’m uncut |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Brujeria ft. Slaine, Ill Bill, Sick Jacken | 2009 |
Golden Goose ft. Nohokai, Slaine | 2020 |
Evolution of the Kid | 2013 |
Bang Bang ft. La Coka Nostra, Slaine, Ill Bill | 2009 |
Dumb ft. Trenyce, Slaine, Everlast | 2009 |
DopeSick ft. Goretex | 2003 |
Bloody Sunday ft. La Coka Nostra, Sen Dog, Ill Bill | 2009 |
Brujeria ft. Sick Jacken, La Coka Nostra, Slaine | 2009 |
Black Mass Lucifer ft. Vinnie Paz, Ill Bill, Goretex | 2020 |
Dark Day Road ft. Slaine, J57, La Coka Nostra | 2016 |
Bang Bang ft. Ill Bill, Snoop Dogg, Slaine | 2009 |
Choose Your Side ft. Slaine, Ill Bill, Bun B | 2009 |
Russo’s On The Bay ft. Stu Bangas, Vinnie Paz | 2019 |
Get You By ft. Slaine, Ill Bill | 2009 |
Bloody Sunday ft. Slaine, Ill Bill, Sen Dog | 2009 |
Killing Technology ft. Vinnie Paz, Ill Bill, Goretex | 2020 |
Dark Day Road ft. Ill Bill, Slaine, J57 | 2016 |
It's a Beautiful Thing ft. Ill Bill, La Coka Nostra | 2009 |
The Big Sleep ft. Goretex | 2003 |
The Vice Of Killing ft. Vinnie Paz, Reef The Lost Cauze, Sabac Red | 2011 |
Artist lyrics: Ill Bill
Artist lyrics: Stu Bangas
Artist lyrics: Goretex
Artist lyrics: Slaine