| Tucked the cannon in the lo fabric
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| Slick Rick grills, 24 gold karats
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| The Kimber K6s is so savage
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| It blew his brains all over the ghost mattress
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| The cartier vintage like ghost rabbits
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| Man sent to Dennis Wilson crib, so lavish
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| We went up in his face with a stone hatchet
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| Southpaw, fight with the left like old fascists
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| Throw shots from close angles
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| Have his body laid out like a snow angel
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| Apply pressure till they both strangled
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| Arms dealer sell biscuits like Bojangles
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| Empty clips, give 'em my all
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| Small fry, I got choppers that are bigger than y’all
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| No small talk money, just the jux and be gone
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| I got shooters waiting for you if you look at me wrong
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| Muerte
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| 12 gauges were perfect for these kind of jobs, cause they were intimidating.
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| They were big, you know, rather than just a handgun
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| We’d kick down these doors and, put the gun to their head and I’m just like:
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| Look, if you don’t give me my money… Then I’m gonna hurt you.
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| A lot of times I didn’t even need the money. |
| I just did it because,
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| it just gave me this fucking euphoric feeling and I was addicted
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| Satan laughs as you eternally rot
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| Young Baloff with the burgundy snot
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| You get surgically shot
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| Drive-by you in a cloud of that purpley pot
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| Can you see with your Eyes Wide Shut? |
| Certainly not
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| And we all gon' die some day, slowly we rot
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| Shooters might go get your funeral shot, ahk
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| So choose wise who you keep within the circle of trust
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| Tucked the swammy in the gut
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| Tommy, hand me the blunt
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| Speed forth like Z. York in the green orb
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| Swing swords, careen towards enemy hordes
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| Tear the face off my enemy’s corpse
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| Mob through heavenly armed
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| The cause with these heavy metal songs and bars
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| Standing on a cliff harnessing the source of the Ark
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| Past the banana clip architects tortured in war
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| Eye-patches on crisis actors
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| Unrecognizable accents on ISIS captains
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| Practice survival tactics
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| Cut around your face. |
| Rip your scalp, let it hang down. |
| Rip your face off.
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| And they put a mirror, in front of you, so you can get a real good look at
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| yourself… Then cut your dick and your balls off
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| Medina Arafat, return to the martyr’s dream
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| My squad gleams like October in the arts of fiends
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| Cause Tuddy cooked a whole corpse until the barren clean
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| Magazine melt your face away, it’s guaranteed
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| Roy DeMeo was the butcher from Flatlands
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| Back of the garbage truck, we kill for pellets like Pac-Man
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| Elegant Lou Duva body-parts in the cooler
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| Got shooters up in the crib smell like gauze and hot tuna
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| Diadoras, the fat tongues and the yeshiva clapping
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| Break bread, black Rabbi with the heater action
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| Def Leppard, pyromania, I torch and go
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| Rifle nut 40 aught, khakis and baby scorpio
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| Young friend it’s Gore mortuary drape
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| Called Paz so we burn the body raw till it was Frosted Flakes
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| Nikki Sixx, the black corvette from Uncensored
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| Stomp your head out rock corpse paint
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| Like Jon from Dissection
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| One of my first acts will be (sniff) to get all of the drug lords (sniff) all
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| of the bad ones, we have some bad, bad people (sniff) in this country that have
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| to go out. |
| (sniff) We’re going to get them out, we’re going to (sniff) secure
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| the border (sniff) and once the border is secure, at a later date (sniff) we’ll
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| make a determination as to the rest. |
| (sniff) But we have some bad (sniff)
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| hombres (sniff) here and we are going to get 'em out. |
| (grunts and snorts) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bad Hombres , by - Heavy Metal Kings. Song from the album Black God White Devil, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп