Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wit A Mask On , by - X-Raided. Release date: 30.06.1995
Song language: English
Wit A Mask On |
| Zombie: Helllp |
| Person 1: Don’t be afraid |
| Person 2: I’ll bust it in the damn head. |
| Man, you sure that thing’s tied good? |
| P1: You can hear me? |
| Zombie: Yesss |
| P1: Why do you eat people |
| Zombie: Not people, brainsss |
| P1: Brains only? |
| Zombie: Yesss |
| P1: Why? |
| Zombie: The paaaiiinnn |
| P1: What about the pain? |
| Zombie: The paaaiinnn of being deaddd |
| P1: Brains. |
| Hurts, to be dead? |
| Zombie: I can feel myself rotttttiiiiing |
| P1: Eating brains. |
| How does that make you feel? |
| Zombie: It makes the pain go awaaaayyyy |
| Yes, motherfuckers |
| Yet you have entered the psycho ward |
| Where the X-Raided lays his head, niggas |
| So let that nigga tell his story… beotch |
| I be stalkin' like Jason |
| Nigga I ain’t sayin' shit |
| Mask on wit' a machete in my right mit |
| Ain’t gon' be no «cha cha cha. |
| cha cha cha» |
| Cause all you gon' be hearin' is «ratta-tat» and «pop pop» |
| And it ain’t gotta be no friday the thirteenth |
| I don’t give a fuck if it’s sunday the fifteenth |
| Any day is good for me to go and kill a ho |
| So fuck the money, mo murder mo murder mo |
| And it’s a nightmare on yo' mama’s street |
| But freddy’s bitch-ass is dead, so now you got to deal wit' me |
| And ain’t no need to make no part two, three or fo' |
| Cause I’m gon' kill 'em all in that first episode |
| Slit 'em open with the straight razor |
| Killin' 'em quicker than that mother fucker pinhead on hellraiser |
| I’m hellbound so the X-Raided loc ain’t no joke |
| When I creep I use that nine-millimeter to split yo' face wide open |
| Cause nigga you know I got no brain |
| Mama said when I was young I didn’t play I liked to gangbang |
| My psychiatrist told me I was totally insane |
| I’m packin' a millimeter nine-a nina it’s same daisy |
| I got that loco-active siccness |
| Makin' a nigga lunatic |
| I fit you filthy murderous when I’m blastin' on them bitches |
| Killin' 'em up, fillin' 'em up with lead |
| I’m full of that liquor I’m stickin' my trigga unloadin' da shit sicc |
| So psychoactive nigga bangin' the deuce-fo' s t r to the double e t |
| Don’t tell my nina you seem to be incubate |
| And I ain’t trippin' on all that payback shit you ripped in jail |
| By then i’ll have that nine to make that brain thang hang out, nigga |
| You fuckin' with the g’sta |
| When you runnin' up on the x you better bring your favorite preacher witchya |
| Cause you gon' need him to be a witness when I smoke ya |
| Look you in yo' eyes and say «you shoulda been a loc’sta» |
| ((Da Misses)) |
| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on |
| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on |
| Creepin' through the dark. |
| ((.murderin' motherfuckers)) |
| Aimin' for the heart. |
| ((.slaughterin' motherfuckers)) |
| Pick up yo' god damn remote turn on your TV |
| Ya hit the channel to one eighty-seven faculty |
| Look in the light you’ll see that sista, «hey LSG» |
| Oh with the stogie-ogie-ogie now follow me |
| And to your death, yeah bitch you shouldn’tna fucked with a g |
| Cause I got that S A C on my motherfuckin' family, uzi |
| Shit it gets crazier, disect your fuckin' heart |
| And bury your ass in the motherfuckin' park |
| Pop chop chop goes your head |
| Cause it’s the bloody murdy with the ammo gat that ya felt |
| My dear, catch the needle in your eye |
| Time to get wicked oh yeah time to die |
| Cause the voices be sayin' |
| «misses start sprayin' |
| On these punk-ass niggas talkin' shit and nuts ain’t even hangin'» |
| So slippedy slip slip slip slip slide |
| Got the fuckin' Glock and on your soul I’m 'a ride |
| Because it’s the motherfuckin' bone |
| Ready to get gone |
| And it’s da motherfuckin' miss with the mask on |
| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on |
| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on |
| Biatch get your grip cause I’m on that mission |
| I slit first like O.J. |
| so don’t let me start rippin' |
| Shift up like a wind storm, now hollow ones make your body warm |
| But niggas are wanted for the life I have no pitty cause I love harm |
| So i. |
| want to bust caps like a g |
| Hey g pass me the hk afta that nine-millie so them fools come remember me |
| «you crazy nigga,» not crazy, I’m psycho |
| Once I’m bustin' shots at them niggas moonwalk just like michael |
| I flip, 'how you flip?' |
| I’m flippin' it back and forth |
| I’m havin' one of them bitches movin' they mouth and playin' poor sport |
| Oh shit mista nigga where’s yo vest I’m 'bouts to pop ya |
| How many times do I have to tell you you cannot like fuck with the chopsta |
| I rip shit the fuck up, that’s the perfect sign to |
| Slit your throat, and bury your ass where no one can find you |
| With my mask on, my paths leave no evidence |
| Black gloves black scarf crept I creep nights so handle shits |
| You punk-ass bustas |
| I heard you couldn’t trust us |
| Your set be should be on move sorry cause your whole block is bustas |
| Vamp like that, black is cool I see no sunshine |
| Knocka full of AKs and a backpack full of tech nines |
| Biotch! |
| ((Da Misses)) |
| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on |
| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on |
| Creepin' through the dark. |
| ((.murderin' motherfuckers)) |
| Aimin' for the heart. |
| ((.slaughterin' motherfuckers)) |
| Whan ya see my nina, ya shoulda ducked |
| Just knowin' a nigga like Lunasicc don’t be givin' a fuck |
| So uh, I lit it up now I’m gettin' up out of that bitch |
| Tear my bucket down march with fo' fo’s burned up on the fuckin' ground |
| I left him dead his bloody head left on the concrete |
| There he lay when the AK spray brains lookin like hamburger meat |
| I’m gettin' ghost like casper |
| But I’m not that friendly nigga I’m that Lunasicc bastard |
| I’m hazardous to my own health |
| Just any minute I just might grab that nine millimeter and bust my own self |
| So we can take it to the next level |
| I go to hell and get at the grim reeper yellin' «fuck the devil!» |
| So we can take it to the crossroads, motherfucker |
| Even then my nine steadily loaded killin' all you bustas |
| Fill it up with hollow tips then pop nigga drop me one |
| Fillin' all you devils up with them hot ones |
| Kickin' down doors with x, shoot my gat in fuck the discussion |
| All I want is the cash, if there ain’t none I’mma blast |
| Killin' ya doctor, ya ambulance driva, and ya nurse |
| You’re walkin' to your funeral cause x’loc blew up your hurse |
| You’z a victim of the lunasicc, hell of quick to blast |
| Ash to ash dust to dust right up on yo' motherfuckin' ass |
| With the quicka, the reepa the nigga |
| Takin' the gat with a blast straight to the dome |
| Lunasicc for the nine-five bitch creepin' with my mask on |
| ((da misses)) |
| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on |
| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on |
| Creepin' through the dark. |
| ((.murderin' motherfuckers)) |
| Aimin' for the heart. |
| ((.slaughterin' motherfuckers)) |
| P2: Hey, look ma. |
| Fuck this, I gotta talk to you. |
| How do we kill those |
| thiiiings? |
| P1: You don’t |
| P2: The FUCK you mean you don’t? |
| P1: Burt, you don’t kill those mothers, they’re already dead. |
| You gotta |
| understand they’re not living creatures, they’re animated. |
| I mean you can chop |
| them up into pieces and pieces, they’ll still come after you |
| P2: Holy FUCK |
| P1: All you can do is just burn them. |
| Gotta totally reduce them to ashes so |
| there’s nothing left to came after you |
| P3: How are you gonna burn all those things? |
| P2: Man, there’s 100 of those fuckers |
| P1: Yeah, that is the question |