| I don’t leave nothing to chance, it’s no one to guess
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| And I play everything real close to the chest
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| The 2016 Range Rover is next
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| And I walk through the Valley of Death with no stress
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| Marvelous money to murder y’all, gold bullion
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| Fifty dudes, parkside, killers wear skully on
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| That’s the glass table that I’m putting your medulla on
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| Black trees, black ski mask, black uniform
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| The shiny black .45 is my bitch
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| Cause I understand that nothing in the world is a gift
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| Ain’t no magic what I’m doin', ain’t no Merlin in this
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| The stupidity the reason Donald Sterling exist (you stupid fuck)
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| I was eating pills with Van Morrison in Gloria
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| At the Waldorf Astoria, called shorty up
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| If you’re looking for a father figure, call Maury up
|
| You a Dr. Seuss rapper, made the whole story up
|
| Who the one that always gotta drink?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Always getting thrown into the bing?
|
| — That's me!
|
| The one that always holding all the hammers?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Who run up in the club and go bananas?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Who the one that always gotta drink?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Always getting thrown into the bing?
|
| — That's me!
|
| The one that always holding all the hammers?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Who run up in the club and go bananas?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Oyster Perpetual and bottles of Chandon
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| Everything you thought that existed is long gone
|
| Waiting on an opium shipment from Hong Kong
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| Y’all approach to what we created is all wrong
|
| Everything that we emulated are raw songs
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| Everything that y’all haven’t made is in poor form
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| ECW Jerry Lynn when he fought Storm
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| You an asshole masturbating to soft porn
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| No guns, iron deficiency, you anemic
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| Audio heroin intravenous, my sun like Phoenix
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| Love the second the boss seen it
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| The route take longer but it’s much more scenic
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| See, me and my brothers have been waiting for a while now
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| Giving you the time to get your wack-ass style down
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| Matter fact I think we gon' have us a pow-wow
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| Your guns go boom-boom, mines go BAOW BAOW
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| Who the one that always gotta drink?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Always getting thrown into the bing?
|
| — That's me!
|
| The one that always holding all the hammers?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Who run up in the club and go bananas?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Who the one that always gotta drink?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Always getting thrown into the bing?
|
| — That's me!
|
| The one that always holding all the hammers?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Who run up in the club and go bananas?
|
| — That's me!
|
| Stoupe whattup!
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| They bitin' our shit, silly, Papa
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| That’s why we gotta reinvent the whole shit
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| Yo, word is God, I ain’t dissing y’all by name
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| I just slappin' y’all in the face, stealin' our shit, man
|
| How many years? |
| 15 years?
|
| Nah that’s not long enough |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hell's Messenger , by - Jedi Mind Tricks. Song from the album The Thief and the Fallen, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп