Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Revenge!!! (feat. Celph Titled)[Feat. Celph Titled], artist - Louis Logic. Album song Sin-a-Matic, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.07.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Pot To Piss In
Song language: English
Revenge!!! (feat. Celph Titled)[Feat. Celph Titled] |
First and foremost, I got to figure out what hurts the whore most |
Before we show up at this nigga’s house |
We can rip him out the drivers seat, pin him down |
Grab the hag and jam a rag in her mouth |
Wrap some string around her wrists, and tie her feet |
You guys toss her in the back of the van |
I’ll be smackin' her man with the back of my hand |
But that’s just half of the plan |
I can’t believe this fuckin snake used to pass as my fam |
Come up and shake my hand like it wasn’t fake, damn |
You take the van to my cousin’s place in the countryside |
Celph and Christian, I want you guys to help me lump this guy |
We’ll beat his ass within half an inch of his life |
And fuck him up, just enough to make his mother cry |
Then we’ll leave the punk beside town square |
Tied to a street pole, so people see his lump behind out bare |
We’ll come and ride out where this slutty flirt leads to |
Strip her down to her birthday suit |
Last but not least, drive inside a farm or couch |
Chillin by the barn and dump her where the heffers squirt their poop |
You got it? |
Alright, enough! |
Enough! |
Fuck that! |
Fuck that shit! |
Yo, chill! |
Holy shit, dude he’s bleeding a lot |
I ain’t no doctor, but he ain’t movin, I can’t see if he’s breathin or not |
Yo nevermind, y’all just need to stop and check his signs |
Feel his neck, and find his pulse, if he dies, we’re gettin time |
(Guys, what? We were only supposed to scare him) |
Yo shut the fuck up |
(The cops are gonna bust us man, his family knows my parents) |
Oh god, there’s no pulse, there’s no repairin' |
This niggas dead, I know his mother too, that bitch is overbearin |
I need a cigarette |
(Take some fuckin' Nicorette, Lou we killed a guy) |
Yo stop sayin that, maybe he’s still alive |
(Someone try CPR, he’ll survive) |
If he’s got any blood that’s still inside |
Both of you shut up, I think I see a car |
(What do we do?!) |
We’ll get some plastic bags and duct tape |
Cut 'em up, package him, dig a hole and leave this faggot upstate |
(Oh that’s just great, we’re all gonna end up in a cell) |
Or in the chair, you whiny bitch, but you’ll love it in hell |
Come on you assholes, this isn’t helpin |
Christ, he fuckin stinks |
He dumped on himself, this nigga’s smellin |
That’s what happens when you split your melon |
Give me the switchblade from the trunk |
We’ll make two stitches fit his well and a ditch made for just one |
(We're fuckin triple felons) |
Quit your yellin, help me wrap the arms up |
We got to get this job done before any more cars come |
We’ll go meet up with Arson and take care of the bitch |
Giftwrapped in a sinsack and dump the pair in a ditch |
Uhh, dispatch this is Car 51 |
Possible 1−8-7 suspects loading bags shaped like body parts in a trunk |
(Yo it’s the fuckin' cops) |
I told you assholes a cars gonna come |
Hey yo it looks now, let’s go before they start with the guns |
This is Car 51 requesting backup, we are in pursuit |
Of three suspects in a gold Honda Accord |
PA license plate… Bravo David Sally 81 28 |
Possible 187, repeat possible 187, requesting backup |
Come on out, we got the area surrounded |
With SWAT teams around it and you’re going downtown kid |
Sit down bitch, we ain’t goin no place |
Move again, I’ll slash your whole face off with this cold blade |
No wait, it’s time to go home son, where you goin with this? |
Son? |
Eat a dick copper, no one needs to know my business |
Just get a chopper and lots of money, before I chop this honey’s head off |
It’s too late when the scene has gotten bloody |
Yo stop this funny stuff |
Fuck you, and bring a case of beer |
A lager, and don’t bother tryin to make me wait for years |
I got a taste for smearin' blood, plus I need a pack of smokes |
So we don’t slaughter, hold the pigs or I’mma slash your throat |
Stop screamin, bitch, I’ll give you somethin to cry about |
Snipers, that’s a go, he dropped his weapon, FIRE NOW (gunshots) |
Affirmative, target hit, he’s on the ground lyin' down |
SWAT Team move in, sargeant turn those sirens down |