Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Valentine's Day Massacre, artist - Swollen Members. Album song 1997, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 05.12.2011
Record label: Battle Axe
Song language: English
Valentine's Day Massacre |
| Slightly schizophrenic borderline psychotic |
| Sensational recreational narcotics |
| I thought I lost it but I found it |
| Temptation marches along till I’m surrounded |
| Inspired by fire the sensual illusion |
| Caught between the crossfire anger and confusion |
| Howl at the moon black blanket that’s starlit |
| Im rarely romantic plowing through tramps and harlots madchild prevails tails |
| of the unwanted |
| Not to be taken for granted |
| My past has come back and haunted for real |
| I’ve all ready danced with death. |
| a dozen black roses |
| I pose with babies breath |
| Be afraid a place where magic is made |
| I’ll rain on your parade with silver razor blades |
| I’m creepin over the fence crawlin through your back yard |
| My mind states intense |
| Savage penetration on the rocks with a twist |
| Now scream and shake your fists |
| Cause dreams are made of this |
| For real the opposite transmit telepathic |
| Roamin' the flats with automatics and back packs |
| Doin' jacks for Big Macs, accumulatin' stacks to make G’s Nigga please, |
| you artificial |
| You dropped somethin', it’s your heart |
| An' it’s still pumpin', pumpin' you from this existence |
| It seems to be absolutely mandatory, cuz you be manipulatin' skin |
| But no way, because you fake I can trace out your image |
| Even though you don’t cast one, I smell a rat, I’m smellin' that |
| Stay back at least 150 inches |
| You brew tea? |
| an I know you know I can sense it |
| With the nostrils innocently mixed with 6 hostile stenches |
| Henceforth the elbow swings dinging, we bring whip to bleed scalps |
| Swingin' sleep out your mouth |
| How long you been hibernatin'? |
| Too long! |
| You’re abiding and aiding a felon, to switch your melon |
| Droppin' grammar like a judges hammer |
| I feel you mark, feel me feel your chart |
| You gotta be real an you gotta to have heart |
| You gotta to be real an you gots to have heart |
| Stir the blur, nuts and bolts whirl |
| Stored in electric ports, 4 strong boxes of 10 floors |
| Shift the weight towards the door, in hopes of escape |
| When hands on cord, the blazing roof Prev creates |
| Sound break, concord, eye of the condor |
| Hand skills of a saboteur, your in for |
| A war that pours coarse of molten into cords |
| Strung by the young ones, put me on tour |
| No folk lore horsemen for poison, pour in skin pores |
| Soft rhymers, metamorphize their cartoon characters |
| Grafted from Africa, in this game you got no stature |
| Not even a factor in this |
| Whole shit makes me yawn |
| Snatch your heart out your chest like a '96 ghetto spawn |
| Antonym of urban, too feminine for this cut-throat mentality |
| Have? |
| thoughts in my area, you get snatched out your Suburban |
| Fallacy with no antidote, in this? |
| your age get broke |
| Runnin' from gun smoke, ballin' never rumin' |
| Silver spoons crumbin' from flavour |
| Soon there will be no overseer to save ya |
| When I delve, tell your podiatrist it’s a size 12 |
| National? |
| Soldiers, leakin' a swine |
| A snake with no spine, I’ll see you, I peeped you |
| You’ll see blue, the fake: |
| A quick death is your fate |
| Now, I got shit to do |