Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Jackel , by - Madchild. Song from the album Silver Tongue Devil, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 23.07.2015
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Jackel |
| Yo, I changed my habitat to palm trees from tabernac |
| Now I’m pullin' playboy bunnies just like a rabbit trap |
| White boy, looking like an angry tatted cabbage patch |
| That flies economy, but Lola’s got a Gucci travelbag! |
| Lone ranger, back on the saddle with satin saddlebags |
| And two chrome platinum battleaxe’s that cattle brand |
| I don’t battlerap as I shadowcast |
| Attack a pack of cackling jackals to watch them scatter fast! |
| I got a new girl, who knows how long that’ll last? |
| Wants me to tie her up, but said I have to put the paddle back |
| Master of the universe, He-man, I’m back on battlecat |
| Mad’ll rap — circles around these rappers, hold your bladder back! |
| I sabotage and camouflage and cause an avalanche |
| So call an ambulance, while this track keep playin a mandolin |
| Scrambling these words together, no one fucks with fancy pants |
| I’m vain as fuck, can’t walk by a mirror without a handsome glance! |
| I’m a sick and twisted midget with invisible friends |
| I cut like scissors with precision while you’re miserably vague |
| I mutilate the master, leave them physically dead |
| Some rappers run away from me like I’m a biblical plague |
| Sometimes I paint my face like juggalos and twisted sister |
| Eleven on the richtor, sick-o, I’m a triple twister |
| What comes around, goes around Ill close you down clown |
| Lyrics they keep circling your head, like Bose surround sound! |
| Okay, remain sober, insane cobra, the evil green dragon |
| Pain’s over, white range rover, to silver G wagon |
| I watch for new popular acts like I got binoculars |
| Cause one day, my shit is gonna end like the apocalypse! |
| But ‘til then, rapper fuck around he’s getting stamped out |
| Devil ain’t just knocking on my door, he’s fucking camped out! |
| Would someone please tell Lucifer I’m back to being a recluse again? |
| Every night I pray to God with Jesus on the crucifix! |
| And I don’t want no problems, but the little Goblin’s gone legit |
| No disrespect, but following your path, my life has gone to shit! |
| And even though I’m dope as barrels full of coke and heroine |
| I’m happy being clean and flying straighter than an arrow is! |
| The devil’s laughing, while these rappers buy his hollow dreams |
| Me? |
| I’m down with juggalos, paint our faces like Halloween! |
| Cellar dweller, you’re Helen Keller, I am Skeletor |
| My juggernaut gone in 60 seconds like an Eleanor! |
| I’m a sick and twisted midget with invisible friends |
| I cut like scissors with precision while you’re miserably vague |
| I mutilate the master, leave them physically dead |
| Some rappers run away from me like I’m a biblical plague |
| Sometimes I paint my face like juggalos and twisted sister |
| Eleven on the richtor, sick-o, I’m a triple twister |
| What comes around, goes around Ill close you down clown |
| Lyrics they keep circling your head, like Bose surround sound! |
| Ayo I’m doper than a barrel in a boat |
| Full of heroin and coke |
| Still I’m straighter than an arrow in a bow! |
| My style’s beautiful like Marilyn Monroe |
| But I’m more like Charlie Manson, when I’m tearin out your throat! |
| Once you get a buzz, if you lose it, it’s hard to get it back |
| So I’m working seven days a week while tryin to keep my head intact |
| So many rappers now, don’t matter if you’re twice as dope |
| Tryna' ride a rusty bicycle back up an icy slope! |
| But due to due diligence the new villain of dooms not through killing it |
| Dude, I’m to militant |
| When I get in the zone, I’m an abstract evil poet |
| And I’m still yet to have my time, I think the people know it! |
| I’m in the Barker Lounge coming up with a darker sound |
| Hellhounds, and demons in my head, my dogs are barking now! |
| It’s fun to beast but gotta leave the ego out of it |
| Hit the kids with love, cause that’ll beat the evil out of’em |
| Backpack rapper, I am underground, it’s pretty basic |
| Just get a pad and pen and smokes and find a dirty basement |
| Little devil, I rap for angels with dirty faces |
| They come from hurting places, feel it when I’m blurting statements! |
| I’m a sick and twisted midget with invisible friends |
| I cut like scissors with precision while you’re miserably vague |
| I mutilate the master, leave them physically dead |
| Some rappers run away from me like I’m a biblical plague |
| Sometimes I paint my face like juggalos and twisted sister |
| Eleven on the richtor, sick-o, I’m a triple twister |
| What comes around, goes around Ill close you down clown |
| Lyrics they keep circling your head, like Bose surround sound! |