Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Acid King, artist - Malibu Ken. Album song Malibu Ken, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 16.01.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Acid King |
The magic is black, backyard happy and fertile |
For Kasso, the Acid King of the Black Circle |
Same year Bowie dropped |
Two horns hatched and matured to gore Northport’s '84 |
Here is '84: Mary Lou Retton, Excitebike, AIDS, Jeopardy! |
Wake up the Orwell in me |
Crack rock, anyway: seventeen summers in developing |
Would it be the middle school or ketamine? |
Guess |
Left home in the dark |
To curl up in a bear hug in Suffolk County’s arms |
With a bevy of heavy metal records and leather bibles |
More Anton LaVey than Saint Michael |
More sherm in a Ford on bricks behind Midas |
Fly with the pentagram pilots |
Sabbath and Judas and all tunes prudent |
Seems tame now, but then it was Devil music |
Rick Six, the nickname clicks |
Makeshift altar in a clearing in the sticks |
Forfeit a kitten by the forks from the kitchen |
With horsemen who drew the same symbols |
Pitchforks waving out a grand theft four by four support system |
Alas; |
Angus on the ax in the back |
Foreground offering a pitch-dark animal corpse |
And backyard black mass |
And a brash curiosity opt for grave robbery |
To puff and pluck skulls at a cemetery property |
Cops cuff him and stuff him in Amityville Asylum |
It’s fantasy island for Noah’s Lions, at the time |
South Oaks, but focus on the environment |
And how it couldn’t loosen the Lucifer out his client |
Who would flee |
Pale moon, pale horse howling death |
And LSD to make it mean more than it meant |
Pay attention: here’s where the whole thing sours |
And goes from intriguing to wowzers |
At a party, a passed out drunk Kasso gets got for 10 bags of dust |
Now it’s not a big town, and people have big mouths |
So he fishes around 'til he figures it out |
Gary Lauwers, seventeen years young |
You have no idea what you’ve done |
Track him down, beat him pissy |
He got five bags back, still owes him fifty |
Oh Ricky, Ricky, do we hound him for loot? |
Or show him how the hellbound do? |
Hmm… |
Kasso waives all debts |
Says, «Let's just go and get baked instead» |
Two shake hands and the beef play dead |
Though it’s more like a skeeter shaking a web |
And along came a spider with two of his friends |
It was into the woods, a delusional mess |
Four kids dipped in a black hole bath |
June 16, Kasso snaps |
Off-guard Gary tackled and pinned |
Sees Rick pull a knife from his jacket and grin |
Raise that knife like a sword to the moon |
Plunge that knife through a portrait of youth, going |
«Say you love Satan, say you love Satan» |
Lauwers ain’t say it, just cave to the facelift |
Thirty-two stab wounds, gouged out eyes |
Burns on his skin, not a cloud in the sky |
Kasso had later explained he was told |
By Satan himself in the form of a crow |
To murder the kid cold |
A part of a pristine whole |
No, no, no, no, no… |
And just had to brag |
Until somebody sad just had to rat |
Sat in a cell as a merchant of hate |
Who would hang from his sheet before the third day |
Some say Kasso was part of a cult |
But I’m sure there was more than we’re told |
More than adults or authority could rightly decode |
Or maybe I’m wrong and he’s finally home |
Kasso! |
It’s starting to feel like a nice night |
Hold close to the highs and the white light |
Hold close to the good you are drawn to |
These woods were grown to disarm you |
It’s starting to feel like a nice night |
Hold close to the highs and the white light |
Hold close to the good you are drawn to |
These woods were grown to disarm you |
It’s starting to feel like a nice night |
Hold close to the highs and the white light |
Hold close to the good you are drawn to |
These woods were grown to disarm you |
It’s starting to feel like a nice night |
Hold close to the highs and the white light |
Hold close to the good you are drawn to |
These woods were grown to disarm you |