| Lock your doors I’m rotten to the horror core
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| Valkyries clean up after my dogs of war
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| Won’t be pigeon-holed I’m a bird of prey
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| Put me a category I’ll put you in a early grave
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| Lucifer reject
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| Shoulders are stumps from where I used to have three heads
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| (Possessed) there can only be one
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| Before my soul reach hell, scatter my ashes over the sun
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| Not holding my tongue, I say what I feel
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| I’m the hand that rocks the cradle of filth
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| I don’t wanna live life
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| The suicidal sword swallower, slitting my throat from the inside
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| Open my windpipe
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| Corpses rise from the grave when my names spoken at midnight
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| Inflict indescribable pain
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| Don’t drink drive, drink Strychnine and pilot a plane
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| Down for survival, left at the ‘Hour of Reprisal'
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| My verse coerce worse than the power of the Bible
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| The game changed I stay raw
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| Spitting chainsaws configuring bars like I’m rigging Claymores
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| We ain’t singing or dancing
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| Kids in my camp is a fam more satanic than Manson
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| American, my partner in Canada lampin'
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| Watch your eye contact or get slammed with the hammer for glancing
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| The Last be a savage beast
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| Any rapper in the path of me is actually a casualty
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| Have pity for cats that have to battle me
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| Cause catastrophe, naturally never will my disaster cease
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| I dispatch beef Frank Castley
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| Ninety nine and a half percent of rap is ass to me
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| Psiklone Possessed Skirmish & Billy Idol
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| Plus Last conceal rifles spill ya vitals
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| I keep my eyes peeled with hunting knives
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| My voice alone provokes stone gargoyles to come to life
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| Gave nightmares spitting Lucifer lullabies
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| Tried a hundred times but can’t seem to fucking die
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| Run and hide
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| When disaster strikes, the whole worlds looking at me like Busta Rhymes
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| Turn the London eye colour blind
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| Muscles thrive off natural steroids in my blood supply
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| Psiklone a sick psycho
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| Drink and spit nitro and sprint so quick I switch time zones
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| Bury my landlords under the floor
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| When lightning strikes I hit back with double the force
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| Death sentences riddled with wise words
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| Like the titanic you’ve only touched the tip of the ice berg
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| Grab minotaurs by the horns
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| I’m a higher force and I learnt to fly before I could walk
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| Break your bones with built in brass knuckles
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| N.O.S cylinders inside my legs as calf muscles
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| Sprint against an avalanche
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| Souls expire, exposed to the smokeless fire of this dragon’s wrath
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| Tarot cards, dealt death in every pack
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| Thought in my mind racing completing memory lapse
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| Would suffocate to death if I swallowed my pride
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| My heart attacks in battles between body and mind
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| The earth rumbles and quakes at my coming of age
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| An appetite for destruction stepping up to the plate
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| (My) Skins senseless to cigarette burns
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| Coz I’m charged on an overdose of Nilapat herbs
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| In the midst of war holding my severed head by the hair
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| I’m never level headed, an unbalanced mind
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| That sent my pulsating heart and dead roses to my valentine
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| A cannibalistic orgy of words born to torture the earth
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| Thought’s are berserk, lost in the verse
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| Cauldron’s will burst the bubble
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| Cursed for trouble, danger, misfortune
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| My words resemble the strangeness of Chris Walken
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| We just talking, conversations with God
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| Shout at the devil thousands of rebel martyrs assemble
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| Under a black flag with the white skull and guns on it
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| Drink vodka straight out of the bottle and puff chronic
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| Better yet catch me with Snoop drinking Tanqueray
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| Listening to Cuban Linx 2 in the lab with Rae
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| «The Hour of Reprisal» gave me cash and fame
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| Next stop homie — you’ll catch me in the lab with Dre
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| I had Premo on my album; |
| had Muggs on my album
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| Had models from Brazil chopping up drugs on my album
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| This is Ill Billy Crystal, the kid with the frown
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| Spitting it loud get outta my way I’ma piss in the crowd |