Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Killer Collage, artist - The Vendetta. Album song Blood Calls 2 Blood, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.10.2010
Record label: WB
Song language: English
Killer Collage |
For the sake of the gore so we awake in the morgue |
I’m fucking breaking your jaws up, all you haters get torn |
Blood caked on the floor, get all your trachea clawed up |
The slaughter, it shows up your bones get sawed up |
Split half a clip, out the biscuit with quickness |
The bitches that diss this’ll witness the sickness |
Malicious, like witches concoctions or potions |
I’m vicious, my hit so get dropped in the ocean |
Pop with the motion, the clocks are exploding |
You’re rocking the nose with the ox that I’m holding |
You fold under pressure, the mould will caress you |
Infect ya, I bet ya corrosion will get ya |
Fester with death, your cult status drained |
I’ll dispatch your batch in short spats of pain |
Claimed souls that stained hold the keys to destruction |
The same old brain bone bleeding it’s disgusting |
Still I fill you full of lead |
Got the hollow tips drilling till your blood is spilling red |
Holler at the villain with the? |
for killing feds |
I’m swallowing the pill, filling visions in my head, enemies are still and dead |
Mister murder, I’ll make a jump suit out of your flesh |
A powerful Rottweiler will devour the rest |
You pray for world peace, I pray for world chaos |
I work to alerting the beast out of a séance |
Street demon will leave you in the streets bleeding |
My sweet semen cover your bitches teeth gleaming |
Dumb undercover trying to score bird |
Let’s save the earth and smoke weed, but I’ll go to third |
Losers stuck in time, find a god for a crime to earn a buck and I lose my |
fucking mind |
Robbed him twice cause he said he had more |
Let’s infiltrate the system with Freddy Madball |
Satanic verses, black masses in Catholic churches |
Casting curses, you bleed when we scratch the surface |
The greed of a master and his servant, assassin and a serpent |
Numbers are scratched from the surface of a ratchet |
While cash is preferable to blasting |
Leave you with a fucking hole in your face like what happened? |
Why you had to die like that? |
Took a shit on yourself while you took your last breath |
Shoulda had respect, shoulda, coulda, woulda |
Hit your head with hollow tip casings |
Chopper of hatred, topple the matrix |
Chop at the basis, virus that get trife but sacred |
Like thirty years later thinking your life was wasted |
The loneliest death is suicide |
A gallery of paintings covered with the blood of truth denied |
Streets guaranteed to turn red when youth collide |
Yeah, I even tell the truth when I lie and this is why |