Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Plague (feat. Madchild, Ubiquitous), artist - Prozak. Album song Black Ink, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 08.10.2015
Record label: Strange
Song language: English
The Plague (feat. Madchild, Ubiquitous) |
| In it’s absent minded state |
| The unconscious starts to… |
| Yeah, yo |
| An Illuminatic product |
| Consuming klonopins |
| Pass the point of vomiting |
| So please pass me the Crown again |
| I’m an anomaly, classification; |
| oddity |
| These paranormal lyrics summon spirits |
| Like the conjuring |
| Style is ominous |
| High velocity esophagus |
| Rap Nostradamus, the prophet of all apocalypse |
| Emerging from the dirt |
| Still underground but surfacing |
| I’m verbally disturbing |
| Leaving you nervous like a murder scene |
| In fear and lonely |
| Somebody pass me the Thorazine |
| Before I get to cutting you open |
| Like Michael- Halloween |
| I’m kinda psycho with a knife |
| Slice you to smithereens |
| Waking up in bloody clothes |
| Just hoping it was all a dream |
| Perhaps insanity |
| Orphan to the Manson family |
| Born to cause calamity |
| For the form of vocabulary |
| Decapitation of my enemies and adversaries |
| Lyrically, injecting Black Ink into their capillaries |
| K-K-Killers a-a-and m-masochists |
| T-T-The Hitchcock of Hip Hop |
| Ill as Strange Musi-Music |
| U-B-I, suicide-cide-cide |
| Aye |
| Every time I snap it’s invigorating |
| Cause every line I spit is as cold as a refrigerator |
| These new kids, little babies in defibrillators |
| Vigorous deliverance without a picture pixelated |
| Passionately accurate |
| And I don’t rap for pacifists |
| I make music for psychos, killers and masochists |
| Every time I let out a verse, it’s like a smashing fist |
| Kids losing their mind, like it’s a crashing disk |
| Define challengers, mind’s a nine caliber |
| Future going back in time |
| Like Mayan calendars |
| Madchild’s a lycan, terrible fang bearer |
| White boy, spitting heavy metal like I’m Pantera |
| My mind’s smoking, blown to main fuses |
| Misguided angels, down with Strange Music |
| These new kids, not actually solid |
| So Baxwar’s back just to smash and demolish |
| K-K-Killers a-a-and m-masochists |
| T-T-The Hitchcock of Hip Hop |
| Ill as Strange Musi-Music |
| U-B-I, suicide-cide-cide |
| Yeah |
| This is that drama the lab built |
| Prozak, B. Axe clan collabing now that’s real |
| U-B-I, celebrated I’m on but sad still |
| Cause I have yet to find my Tom Murillo and Brad Wilek |
| Pumping black milk like this fucking track will |
| Shut em- Shut em down, Onyx, Jazzy Jeff, mad skills |
| Inner P&L |
| Ya’ll blind and I’m reading braille |
| But never seeing nails, see when they try to succeed they fail |
| Boy I’m serving well |
| Despite me, being a white geek |
| Your raw shady and half sheisty I’m double hyphy |
| You cry babies, I grind daily |
| You struggle nightly |
| I’m loving life so ladies love me I cuddle wifey |
| Yo, that’s tough to watch |
| Until they lost one |
| They never know what they got |
| Not a Rob Schneider I just fuck a lot |
| Bumping and grinding like the grown-ups do |
| Oh you don’t love this shit |
| Then suppose that I don’t love you, you bitch |