Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hellbound, artist - Madchild. Album song Switched On, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 29.09.2014
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Hellbound |
| I’m known for being late, famous for being a fuck up |
| Kids around me — little backstabbers, bunch of suck ups |
| They want a piece of my pie but I ain’t sharing any |
| Do I look like I’m wearing a bunch of gold — bitch, I ain’t wearing any |
| When it comes to writing songs, bars very scary |
| Beats bang fuckin' hard — sauce, Peri Peri |
| I get up inside these bars like I’m a partition |
| Archaic god’s with me like the archbishop |
| Make you say, «holy shit, it’s a hard mission» |
| Everybody’s turnt up, rapper with a dark vision |
| Nobody gave a flying fuck but now they’re starting to listen |
| Ice in my veins, I’m a sergeant with a heart condition |
| Marching through the marsh, got an army that is riding |
| Exactly where we’re going — bitch, I haven’t quite decided |
| Everything I need, they told me, «God — he will provide it» |
| Great, I’m hoping one day he puts a Bentley in my driveway |
| The devil’s got Bugattis for sale |
| Benz truck, Porsche, Maseratis as well |
| Bitches by the boatload, filling up your coke nose |
| Hope we don’t end all up in the bottom of hell |
| The devil’s got Bugattis for sale |
| Glock 9s, AKs, shotties as well |
| Bulletproof vest, cover bodies up well |
| Don’t get shot, end up in the bottom of hell |
| Yo, wake up in the middle afternoon like, «Why bother?» |
| I should get down on my knees, pray to my father |
| Million rappers nowadays, they should try harder |
| Little fuckin' insects, I’m a flyswatter |
| Your little kids think they’re hot, homie I’m hotter |
| Future masked marauder, laughing while I rap and slaughter |
| I’m disgusting, trust me, don’t lack luster |
| Terminology ten years ago was wack — buster |
| 2014, aggressive track crusher |
| Fack flusher, bunch of liars so their acts suffer |
| Open up your mouth, facefuck you with an apron on |
| Fuck you on the kitchen counter, have ya like a Saint Bernard |
| Sick sapien, I rip shit, I’m way beyond |
| Anybody on your label, put 'em back where they belong |
| Black ski mask, sawed off shotties with shells |
| We got blue nose Pit bulls and Rotties as well |
| Tattoos, handguns, mouth full of gold teeth |
| Each drug binge — a whole week |
| Up, I got no sleep |
| Back when I was younger man, we used to roll so deep |
| Pussy I was knee deep, pussy I’m still knee deep |
| Cash that, three feet |
| Life is fuckin' so sweet |
| Two tone Rolly, big heart, never cold feet |
| Cribs, seven bedrooms |
| Swimming pools and my girls were bi girls |
| Two at a time and then say, «Bye girls!» |
| Moving forty packs of piff, that was my world |
| Going platinum buying gifts, that was my world |
| Then I almost fuckin' slipped, saying, «Bye world!» |
| Didn’t dip, I’m back and it’s a trip, saying, «Hi world!» |
| Now I’m getting a second chance, I ain’t gonna blow it |
| Pray to god and give thanks, man you fuckin' know it |
| BAX WAR motherfuckers |
| Get ready… |