Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Exorcist, artist - Killah Priest. Album song The Exorcist, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.05.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cleopatra, X-Ray
Song language: English
Exorcist |
Each flavor jolly ranchers |
Eight astronauts in space |
Analysts suffer from brain cancer |
Now they speak backwards |
The Earth awaits the center of mass as they arrive |
Only to thrive off a human flesh |
Santa clause wife breaks her neck |
And beaten to death, the Jesus theory was just a hoax |
The devil catches The Holy Ghost |
From a psalm that the Archangel had wrote |
Hitler jerks off on the top of Jezebel’s head |
Give the children stone instead of bread |
Chop off his head, split his body down the middle |
I’m like a three year old and your bones are skittles |
Riddle, diddle, little, sickle, pistol |
Piddle, paddle, rattle, tattle, taboo |
The bottle of Vicodin or Oxycodone |
Now I see Martians, wavin' «Hello» |
Their arms are long, their teeth are yellow |
Pop another gram so I can see the Son of Man |
I look up, oh yeah, the Son of Man |
Now you see, now you don’t |
The trick is makin' them believe but they won’t |
Who killed 2Pac and ODB? |
Somebody’s watchin' me |
Paranoid drinkin' Coca-cola |
The coffee cup spills over, I grab soda-after-soda |
A drive-by shootin' at a weddin', so upsettin' |
White gown, rice rose petals, blood spreadin' |
Fuckin' then killin', killin' then fuckin' |
My brain’s empty, my heart feels nothin' |
My left side is numbin' |
I ask myself, lemme ask you somethin' |
Tryna catch my breath while I’m tryna write somethin' so fresh |
80 grams of Dilaudid, dopa- troponin |
Hydromorphone, my eye’s low, I morph into a King |
Holdin' idols of the mammoth, gaff mist of stream |
A psychedelic, angelic, relic |
Used to bind Leviathan’s wings |
A night perish, his wife’s precious |
Holdin' his head, slide off his helmet |
Lizard face, she drops 'em |
Looks around the reptilian race wit long part tongue |
My pupils dilate, my brain goes cuckoo |
I must annihilate, I leap yoo-hoo |
I feel great, a basket full of snakes |
Upon the tablets, a long beard, a stone I still scrape |
A poem of madness, I shot the devil on Easter eve |
Behind hell’s walls, you can still hear his wife grieve |
She wore white on his funeral |
All dead animals came back to life, it was beautiful |
Lookin' unusual, a long trench-coat, lookin' grim |
Ground hems spend smoke, slightly build posture |
It’s Priest the Mobster |
A sick smile, holdin' his next vic', a small child |
Could it be the next Savior? |
Look for more millennium flows |
Futuristic poems in my comic book of reality |
Called the stargazer papers |