| 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 |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Exorcist , by - Killah Priest. Song from the album The Exorcist, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп