Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Murder, artist - DJ Static. Album song Rolig Under Pres, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 26.08.2012
Record label: Playground Music Scandinavia
Song language: English
Murder |
| I’m a fuckin' beast, a disgustin' freak rapin' nuns and priests |
| Cause I’ve been violent since the day that I discovered peace |
| Never nothin' sweat, I murder snares and leave the drums deceased |
| My pen can rupture sheets, stab a song, and acupuncture beats |
| You’re more then desperate, I forced the weapon in your direction |
| The forks embedded in your intestines your scorched and breathless |
| Now you’re stored and kept in my basement cellar that’s corpse infested |
| Born relentless experimentin' with different torture methods |
| I was rhymin' and makin' features while you were chasin' divas |
| I’m a rapper and great achiever, you can’t relate to either |
| A sacred preacher, I’ll take a cleaver and slice your facial features |
| Claimin' that you sick when you pussies couldn’t even break a fever |
| I don’t give a fuck about new cars and big chains |
| You can go to hell with your smooth talk and bitch claims |
| You should’ve known by now that my true bars inflict pain |
| I bring terror to beats when I drool sparks and spit flames |
| My words are wise, I rap hard, my flow is turnin' tides |
| You’ll burn alive I sip liquor and like my Bourbon dry |
| I spit a verse of mine on the stage with the curtains wide |
| So quit sayin' that you gon' murder guys, you wouldn’t hurt a fly |
| I keep the rhythm the way I kill it should be forbidden |
| The demon’s risen, I’m lawless and don’t believe religion |
| You’ll be a victim when I stab creatin' deep incisions |
| So get familiar with fish because you gon' be sleepin' with um |
| This is Hip Hop, fitted hats and baggy jeans |
| This is hardcore, sippin' jack and passin' weed |
| This is head nod music, where the purple at? |
| Faggots better put their purses back this is Murder Rap |
| I’m the main attraction, your brains are bashed in until it stains the napkin |
| I’m bringin' what the game is lackin' this is dangerous rappin' |
| Your shameless passion’s pathetic I can’t refrain from laughin' |
| If I hear a track I’m takin' action, I’m a trained assassin |
| I’m in the booth with machetes, razors, and Tommy guns |
| I only rap over heavy base and atomic drums |
| A verse of mine could leave the optics in your sockets numb |
| We’re all born with original sin so why should I stop at one |
| My lyrical ways causin' miserable fates |
| My criminal traits intimidate political snakes |
| So now I’m puffin' on the kush until my visuals fade |
| And takin' rap to put it back in its original state |
| I got a beat obsession which motivates me to write and seek progression |
| I spit key conceptions to release you from your deep depression |
| It’s cause of rap that I don’t need a weapon to release aggression |
| I bleed in heaven, I box with God, and I dream inception |
| I keep it comin' cause I know you fans in need of substance |
| Your speakers bumpin' from my vocals and obscene production |
| Bang the repercussions till you suffer from a beat concussion |
| You know sleep faggot? |
| Yeah well you about to meet his cousin |
| This is Hip Hop, fitted hats and baggy jeans |
| This is hardcore, sippin' jack and passin' weed |
| This is head nod music, where the purple at? |
| Faggots better put their purses back this is Murder Rap |