Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Last Supper, artist - Outerspace. Album song God's Fury, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 12.02.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Outerspace
Song language: English
The Last Supper |
I ain’t trying to win the battle I’ma win the war |
I don’t dance in the club dawg I dance wit wolves |
Sip on the fine potion, enhance my thoughts |
Spit murder death kill, I can’t get caught |
Been sick so long I think I need a clinic |
You got tons of guns, ok we get it |
I’ma true emcee see I don’t need a gimmick |
Don’t wanna build wit y’all unless you mean digits |
And I don’t get invovled wit you weak bitches |
I keep my problem solved put 'em in deep ditches |
You’se internet hoe, you trying to network |
You make a few bucks at show, what is your net worth? |
Waiting on my downfall, don’t hold your breath first |
And if your squad run deep I push a stretch hearse |
Y’all all welcomed to the jungle where the Vet lurk |
Where Kamach and Celph Titled I hope that vest work |
(Chorus) Planetary 2x |
There’s nothing you can say to us Too many niggas hating us Its outta line, we outta time |
So start spraying them up Kamach laying in the cut |
We bread breaking it up AOTP!!! |
Ain’t nobody greater then us I dash outta my bat cave, wit black shades |
A fresh fade and an Onyx mad face |
This is the deadliest rap you discovered |
We overflow storm drains bring it back to the gutta |
And no you couldn’t match to my voice from speech course |
I talk raspy, I’ma animal, I speak horse |
My vocal chords is Tyrannosaurus |
And the coordinates from the signal in space went undistorted |
Says that I’m more Mormon, more then purpose abortion |
Amongst dead swordfish sort of corpse assortment |
Army swordsman, Pharaoh Marksmen |
We got canonist of carnage, barrels of arsine |
I’m heralded often as one of underground raps |
Wildest, illest, greatest, sickest and vengeance |
Of spitting image of a Satanic spawn |
Wit eight mechanic arms |
Make a fist in each one will bless you wit a cannon ball |
I don’t write my freestyle that’s some New York shit |
If it’s written the composition cost a few more chips |
I’m Illadelph born, scorned by the Bush administration |
Hopefully Barack can help the children get some motivation |
I’ma punish every politician try to hurt my babies |
I hope McCain OD off cocaine wit his lady |
But anyway back to the rap dungeon circumference |
My comfort zone is attract to make niggas wanted to throw punches |
You lunge then I’m leaping, you front I’m feasting |
You bumming I’m beasting, it ain’t nuttin to beat 'em |
Till the blood is underneath 'em |
I bring the thunder even if the sun a hundred beaming |
Six million ways to die, here go a hundred keep 'em |
I’ma fucking demon, bitch nigga guzzle semen |
Like cheerleaders on the side, what’s the fucking reason? |
Y’all niggas look like water boys on stage |
Type of niggas that I pray gets on the part wit the gauge |
(Chorus) Planetary 2x |
Yeah, African Priest, Dashiki’s wit bullet holes |
Try to kill me I get in the casket befo bullet close |
My whole angle serpentine in the rainbow |
Spit voodoo rap, hear it in the Haitian-Congo |
Daily is the break dance, mind in the straight trance |
Old school murdah, arms crossed in a great stance |
'80s style dirty Louis Vuitton |
You talk Mob shit but I really flew them to Milan |
Between the Crypt and Planet |
Straight from the strip wit advantage |
But from the Heavens I’m banished |
Yeah! |
But the sevens will manage |
Cuz the sixes is bitches |
Five pointed stars on the stage, slitting their wrists |
Scorched by the beautiful eyes of the Pharaohs mistress |
Number 1 on the mythical hit list, I am this |
Just look at the way the gem glist |
Messiah Marley, keep some Solomon stems twist |
(Chorus) Planetary 2x |
(Outro) Chief Kamachi (Celph Titled) |
Ah (Rock-rock-on) |
Y’all know what it is |
(OS rock-rock-on) |
AOTP nigga (Rock-rock-on) |
Celph Titled (Rock-rock-on) |
OS (Rock-rock-on) |
Chief Kamachi (Rock-rock-on) |