| Ooh, listen to the way I slay your crew
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| Damage, damage, damage, damage
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| They cock them hammers, wave them llamas
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| But that’s that in front of the camera drama
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| So when the cameras are attached to dollys, I call them dali lama’s
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| Mold me, loathe, hold me in the palm of your hand, load me
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| You know exactly what I am, murderer
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| When I’m inserted on to the top of fifteen family members
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| It’s the curse of the proverbial anarchy starter, the martyr
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| This is what I have been converted to do what I do is insanity
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| Pro-fo-fo-fanity when they manually hammer me annually
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| You dont figitty faze me yo
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| I won’t tigitty tase you bro
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| Figgity fucking cut you in half like it’s nothing minus the laser scope
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| Then I will ring your bell like Avon
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| Before displaying some of my various tattoos (Trayvon)
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| The (Oscar) award winning (Aiyana Jones) hey (Sean)
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| Sworn to be cannon fodder for your father slaughter daughters
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| Armor piercing tumblers more deadlier than napalm
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| Fuck a stray bullet, I take aim when the gun draws
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| For ever-lasting fame I will maim those who change the gun laws
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| Cause post traumatic stress disorder, ask any vet I’ve worked with
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| My purpose catching bodies like safety nets at the circus
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| Ooh, listen to the way I slay your crew
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| Damage, damage, damage, damage
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| Nigga I will twist your liver like Oliver (TWIST)
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| Scratch your name off my calendar
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| See that was me thru a silencer
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| What you just heard was a .44 caliber
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| Now you can fill in the blanks
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| I will pillage your town
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| Killing them with Dillinger rounds
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| Nigga fill in the clip cause I’m willing to flip
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| See I’m sort of certified, I’m fortified live
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| You would be mortified if I would put on screen what I’ve seen
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| Horrified holy Bibles, rivals, vital organs
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| Little bitty baby bodies, bridal gowns coffins
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| Morphine, gang bang, gangrene, slauson, swap meet
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| Meet greet, pop I don’t sleep, I don’t stop
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| I love hate, hate cops
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| That’s why I laugh when you pull it
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| I’m motivated and crass
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| I’m so elated when I see them on the news (you fuckin' pigs!)
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| They flying the flag half mass
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| See there’s no need for conversation
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| When we’re discussing the bullet’s point of view
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| Ooh, listen to the way I slay your crew
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| Damage, damage, damage, damage |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Damage, artist - Pharoahe Monch. Album song PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп