Behind The Wire - Lyrics - Earth Crisis

Title: Behind The Wire
Artist: Earth Crisis
Composer(s): Karl Richard Buechner, Scott David Crouse, Erick A Edwards, Ian B Edwards, Dennis M Merrick

Lyric:
Imprisoned behind the wire
The doomed await their end
Tangled corpses fill the pits
Starved, shot or poisoned

To the horrors the world turns away
From the suffering in apathy
A blind eye to the victim's pain
That they choose not to see

Unless there's money to be made
Unless territory is gained

Imprisoned behind the wire
The doomed await

Imprisoned behind the wire
The doomed await their end
Tangled corpses fill the pits
Starved, shot or poisoned

To the horrors the world turns away
From the suffering in apathy
A blind eye to the victim's pain
That they choose not to see

Unless there's money to be made
Unless territory is gained

Annihilation reigns
Annihilation reigns

Unless there's money to be made
Unless territory is gained
Unless there's money to be made
Unless territory is gained

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Hit Song - Lyrics - Peter Murphy

Title: Hit Song
Artist: Peter Murphy
Composer(s): Peter Murphy, Peter Anthony Bonas, Paul Terence Statham, Eddie Branch

Lyric:
Walking in the street, breath the only friend
Strangers pass me by, I'm moving, moving with the wind
Inside me now, the gold, the gold at rainbows end
Stranger to myself, a stranger, stranger till the end

Behind the closed door, the one we painted green
To remind me of the perfect plan

Wash my face in fields of green
Take me to the stars for free
Point me to the high wire, wire call
Wake me true and wake me all

Walk me in the street, take me to a view on high
To an empire state tease, tease and bake me dry
Swerve and turn on me melt me, melt me to the wall
Like an unspent fortune, I'm running, running with the call

Behind the closed door, the one we painted green
To remind me of the perfect plan

Wash my face in fields of green
Take me to the stars for free
Point me to the high wire call
Wake me true and wake me all

Wash my face in fields of green
Take me to the stars for free
Point me to the high wire call
Wake me true and wake me all

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1e5b07cc0669de14511d533381d273b9

There Only Was One Choice - Lyrics - Harry Chapin

Title: There Only Was One Choice
Artist: Harry Chapin
Composer(s): Harry F. Chapin

Lyric:
There's a kid out on my corner hear him strumming like a fool
Shivering in his dungarees but still he's going to school
His cheeks are made of peach fuzz, his hopes may be the same
But he's signed up as a soldier out to play the music game

There are fake patches on his jacket
He's used bleach to fade his jeans
With a brand new stay pressed shirt
And some creased and wrinkled dreams
His face a blemish garden but his eyes are virgin clear
His voice is Chicken Little's, but he's hearing Paul Revere

When he catches himself giggling
He forces up a sneer
Though he'd rather have a milk shake
He keeps forcing down the beer
Just another folkie, late in coming down the pike
Riding his guitar, he left Kid brother with his bike

And he's got Guthrie running in his bones
He's the hobo kid who's left his home
And his Beatles records and the Rolling Stones
This boy is staying acoustic

There's Seeger singing in his heart
He hopes his songs will somehow start
To heal the cracks that split apart
America gone plastic

And now there's Dylan dripping from his mouth
He's hitching himself way down south
To learn a little black and blues
From old street men who paid their dues
'Cause they knew they had nothing to lose
They knew it, so they just got to it

With cracked old Gibsons and red clay shoes
Playing 1 4 5 chords like good news
And cursed with skin that calls for blood
They put their face and feet in mud
But oh, they learned the music from way down there
The real ones learn it somewhere

Strum your guitar, sing it kid
Just write about your feelings, not the things you never did
Inexperience, it once had cursed me
But your youth is no handicap, it's what makes you thirsty

Hey kid, you know you can hear your footsteps
As you're kicking up the dust
And the rustling in the shadows tells you secrets you can trust
The capturing of whispers is the way to write a song
It's when you get to microphones, the music can go wrong

You can't see the audience with spotlights in your eyes
Your feet can't feel the highway from where the Lear jet flies
When you glide in silent splendor in your padded limousines
Only you are crying there behind the silver screen

Now you battle dragons, but they'll all turn into frogs
When you grab the wheel of fortune, you get caught up in the cog

First your art turns into craft then the yahoos start to laugh
Then you'll hear the jackals howl 'cause they love to watch the fall
They're the lost ones out there feeding
On the wounded and the bleeding
They always are the first to see the cracks upon the walls

When I started this song I was still thirty-three
The age that Mozart died and sweet Jesus was set free
Keats and Shelley too soon finished, Charley Parker would be
And I fantasized some tragedy'd be soon curtailing me

Well just today I had my birthday, I made it thirty-four
Mere mortal, not immortal, not star-crossed anymore
I've got this problem with my aging, I no longer can ignore
A tame and toothless tabby can't produce a lion's roar

And I can't help being frightened on these midnight afternoons
When I ask the loaded questions
"Why does winter come so soon?"
And where are all the golden girls that I was singing for
The daybreak chorus of my dreams serenades no more

Yeah the minute man is going soft, the mirror's on the shelf
Only when the truth's up there can you fool yourself?
I am the aged jester who won't gracefully retire
A clumsy clown without a net caught staggering on the high wire

Yesterday's a collar that has settled round my waist
Today keeps slipping by me, it leaves no aftertaste
Tomorrow is a daydream, the future's never true
Am I just a fading fire or a breeze passing through?

Hello my Country, I once came to tell everyone your story
Your passion was my poetry
And your past, my most potent glory
Your promise was my prayer
Your hypocrisy my nightmare
And your problems fill my present
Are we both going somewhere?

Step right up young lady
Your two hundred birthdays make you old if not senile
And we see the symptoms there in your rigor mortise smile
With your old folks eating dog food and your children eating paint
While the pirates own the flag and sell us sermons on restraint

And while blood's the only language
That your deaf old ears can hear
And still you will not answer with that message coming clear
Does it mean there's no more ripples in your tired old glory stream
And the buzzards own the carcass of your dream?

Oh B U Y Centennial
Sell 'em pre-canned laughter
America Perennial
Sing happy ever after

There's a dance band on the Titanic
Singing nearer my God to thee
And the iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Yes I read it in the New York Times
That was on the stands today
It said that dreams were out of fashion
We'll hear no more empty promises
There'll be no more wasted passions
To clutter up our play

It really was a good sign
The words went on to say
It shows that we are growing up
In oh, so many healthy ways
And I told myself this is exactly where I'm at
But I don't much like thinking about that

Harry, are you really so naive?
You can honestly believe
That the country's getting better
When all you do is let her alone
Harry, can you really be surprised?
When it's there before your eyes
When you hold the knife that carves her
You live the life that starves her to the bone

Good dreams don't come cheap
You've got to pay for them
If you just dream when you're asleep
There is no way for them, to come alive, to survive

It's not enough to listen, it's not enough to see
When the hurricane is coming on, it's not enough to flee
It's not enough to be in love we hide behind that word
It's not enough to be alive, when your future's been deferred

What I've run through my body, what I've run through my mind
My breath's the only rhythm and the tempo is my time
My enemy is hopelessness, my ally honest doubt
The answer is a question that I never will find out

Is music propaganda, should I boogie, rock and roll
Or just an early warning system hitched up to my soul
Am I observer or participant or huckster of belief
Making too much of a life so mercifully brief?

So I stride down sunny streets and the band plays back my song
They're applauding at my shadow, long after I am gone
Should I hold this wistful notion that the journey is worthwhile
Or tiptoe cross the chasm with a song and a smile?

Well I got up this morning, I don't need to know no more
It evaporated nightmares that had boiled the night before
With every new day's dawning, my kid climbs in my bed
And tells the cynics of the board room your language is dead

And as I wander with my music through the jungles of despair
My kid will learn guitar and find his street corner somewhere
There he'll make the silence listen to the dream behind the voice
And show his minstrel Hamlet daddy that there only was one choice

Strum your guitar, sing it kid
Just write about your feelings not the things you never did
Inexperience, it once had cursed me
But your youth is no handicap, it's what makes you thirsty, hey kid

Strum your guitar, sing it kid
Just write about your feelings not the things you never did

Dance band on the Titanic
Singing nearer my God to thee
The iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

The dance band on the Titanic
Singing nearer my God to thee
And the iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Yeah the dance band on the Titanic
Singing nearer my God to thee
And the iceberg's on the starboard bow
Won't you dance with me

Come on
Yeah the dance band on the Titanic
Singing nearer my God to thee
And the iceberg's on the starboard bow

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e5213eca1cadcf27ed0d7127c9a0c231

Walls Of Red Wing - Lyrics - Bob Dylan

Title: Walls Of Red Wing
Artist: Bob Dylan
Composer(s): Bob Dylan

Lyric:
Oh, the age of the inmates, I remember quite freely
No younger than twelve, no older than seventeen
Thrown in like bandits and cast off like criminals
All inside the walls on the grounds of Red Wing

From the dirty old mess hall, you march to the brick wall
Too weary to talk and too tired to sing
And it's all afternoon you remember your home town
All inside the walls, the walls of Red Wing

Oh, the gates are cast iron and the walls are barbed wire
Stay far from the fence with electricity sting
And it's keep down your head and stay in your number
All inside the grounds of the walls of Red Wing

Oh, it's fare thee well to the deep hollow dungeon
Farewell to the boardwalk that takes you to the screen
Farewell to the minutes, they threaten you with it
All inside the grounds of the walls of Red Wing

It's many a guard that stands around smilin'
Holdin' his club like he was a king
Hopin' to get you behind the wood pilin'
All inside the grounds of the walls of Red Wing

The night aimed shadows through the crossbar windows
And the wind punched hard to make the wall-sidin' sing
It's many a night, I pretended to be a-sleepin'
All inside the grounds of the walls of Red Wing

As the rain rattled heavy on the bunk-house shingles
And the sounds of the night, they made my ears ring
'Til the keys of the guards clicked the tune of the mornin'
All inside the grounds of the walls of Red Wing

Oh, some of us will wind up in St.Cloud prison
And some of us'll end up to be lawyers and things
And some of us'll stand to meet you on your crossroads
From inside the grounds of the walls of Red Wing

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High Plains Drifter - Lyrics - Beastie Boys

Title: High Plains Drifter
Artist: Beastie Boys
Composer(s): Matt Dike, Michael Diamond, John Robert King, Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael S Simpson

Lyric:
The High Plains Drifter, and I'm the drifter
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)
The High Plains Drifter, and I'm the drifter
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)
They can't catch me they're never gonna find me
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)
They're never gonna know that I'm the High Plains Drifter

Pulled over to the river to take a rest
Pulled out a pair of pliers, pulled the bullet out of my chest
Fear and loathing across the country listening to my 8 track
I reached behind the seat and snatched a Kool from the pack

A long distance from my girl, and I'm talking on the cellular
She said that she was sorry and I said "yeah, the hell you were"
Check my rear view mirror, check the gold tooth display
Check out the odometer and I was on my way

'Cause I'm the High Plains Drifter, the best that you can get
A strapped shoplifter, a pirate on cassette
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)
Bust a Travis Bickle when I feel that I'm getting pushed
Don't step to me or you're gonna get mushed
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)

I'm doing 120 plowing over mail boxes
Radar detector to tell me where the cops is
Spend another night at the Motel 6
It's five dollars extra get the porno flicks

And then I concoct a Black and Tan in my brandy snifter
I'm a kleptomaniac, K-Mart shoplifter
Cash flow getting low so I had to pull a job
I found a nice place to visit but a better place to rob

I left my car outside, and the engine still revvin'
Taking care of business at 7-eleven
And then I went inside to make my withdrawal
I saw what he had had, but I had to take it all

Knucklehead deli tried to gyp me on the price
So I clocked him off the turban with a bag of ice
Cause I'm mell-el-o like jell-el-o, cool like lemonade
I made my getaway and then I thought that I had it made

I feel like Steve McQueen, a former movie star
Look in my rearview mirror seen a police car

Ballantine quarts with the puzzle on the cap
I couldn't help to notice I was caught in a speed trap
Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry, on the run from Dirty Harry
Stash the cash in the dash, but my gun I did carry

I'm seeing blue and red flashing deep in the night
I got my alibi straight and I pulled over to the right
The cop knocked on my window, said "Boy, where's the fire?
You've got a mailbox on your bumper and a bald front tire"

"Outta the car longhair, your goose is cooked"
Read me my rights, fingerprinted, and booked

Makin' like a D.T. driving a Gran Fury
Wherever I hang my hat's my home and my past is kind of blurry
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)
Every dog will have its day, mine will be in front of a jury
I'm the High Plains Drifter you know that I'm never in a hurry
('Cause I'm a High Plains Drifter, drifter)

Read me my rights, as if I didn't know this
Threw me in the tank with a drunk called Otis
With his five o' clock shadow, he smelled of three day old beer
My man turned to me and said "Why are you here"?

I said I'm charming, I'm dashing, I'm rental car bashing
I'm phony paper passing at Nix Check Cashing

I went before the judge he sent me to the Brooklyn House of D
He said "You behave son or we'll throw away the key"
Houdini'd out the cuffs, I kicked the screw in the knee
I took the bailiff's wallet and went straight to OTB

I had a good feeling, easy come, easy go
I bet on one horse to win and another to show
And sure enough that nag came in
Brought my ticket to the window and collected my win

And then I broke into my new car with a wire coat hanger
Hot wired, hot wheeled, and Suzy is a headbanger

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Buck 50 - Lyrics - Supreme Clientele - Ghostface Killah

Title: Buck 50
Album: Supreme Clientele
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): E Turner, Robert F. Diggs, Clifford Smith, Dennis Smith, Darryl Hill, Dennis Coles, Reggie Noble

Lyric:
Who I'm is? The phenom, them niggaz can't live
Who I'm is? We ain't got shit, somethin' got to give
Y'all done flipped y'all wig, blacked out the crib
Die and live for my nigs and my bad-ass kids, freeze
Lookin' at your ice like geez
I'm plottin' on the mousetrap, about to snatch the cheese
I heard y'all kids is 'bout that, psychotherapy
You buggin' where the couch at? Wu, 'til they bury me

Never tell a lie, like George with the cherry tree
Now it's cherry pie, if it's not broke, let it be
Ain't nuttin' nice in New York
Stick you for your cake and your icing that tough talk?
Don't mean nuttin' when you're up North
So keep them hands where I can see 'em like you want freedom
You know that saying, if you can't join 'em
Beat 'em and push your way in
We ain't acrobats but we flip on occasion

Pick the pace up, pants saggin' pull your waist up
Niggaz rentin' slums usually Jacob, fool
You're like, "Dude! I don't like your fuckin' attitude
Frontin' on my Clan from the Stat' when we ain't mad at you"
Yo, yo, starks flippin' cheesyface measly paced ofays
Ghostface, jump out the window for a little taste
The joopy look, my main bitches call me lazy
Educated birds say, "Ghost you so crazy!"

There's no love to be found

Cappa' slide through with the Ghost
Post up like paint on walls
Drip jewels, big heat
Ruffle inside the bubblegoose
It's the Odd Couple, hollow points
Follow you home, Staten Island
Playin' with the big toys that make noise
Echo in the hall, a scared voice

Niggaz start to act choice, but Duncan Hines
Didn't know Betty Crocker had 'em two nines
Made the club moist, shattered the windows
Dustheads runnin', the rap kingpin bust the Black Jesus is comin'
Yo, the words you talk, that'll be the words you walk
Body you in the bed where the nurses are
Put your vein out, watch me insert the dart
'Til it plagues from Bricks to the Persian Gulf

Light circuits off, thirty-third of my brain is off
That explains why my language off
My gun aim and cough, y'all ain't trained to brawl
Y'all more like in trainin' bras
Wet behind the ear, you're not prepared
For the project flow, with extra stairs
I pass out a vest to wear
Yo, the hard wire, startin' barn fires

Pullin' mad, so you know it's me
And your weed got more seeds than O D B
Can't smoke witcha, watch Ghost tie rope to ya
Def and Wu will open ya
Eat a dick like
Baby shake your shit
Girl you're thick like
Gettin' rich like

There's no love to be found

Word it's me y'all, we in two-six's flirtin' with bitches
Dime plus takin' pictures, how you doin' baby? My name Ghost
Don't get caught up in my chains or the way that I speak
Seek intelligence, slickest nigga goin' since "Grease"
Check out the grays on the side of my waves
I grew those on Riker's Island
Stretched out, balled up in the caves
Pull a boot out on Jimmy Jam, text takes jam

Silky texture, Jordan jumped up like Clyde Drexler
All up in the parrot, nose numb, real as they come
Biggie's, Versace's, snow white rabbit
Hands is like photographic magic, funeral love
Movin' when we hug, don't make it a habit
Hit the gym for two weeks, come back all chiseled
Elbows unique now, meet the new me
Ghettofabulous, Ton' Atlas

Zulu Nation in the 80's in front of Macy's
I start my own chapters
Tyco nightglow velvet pose, special effects
High-tech armors Merc you at the shows
Supercalifragalisticexpialidocious
Dociousaliexpifragalisticcalisuper
Cancun, catch me in the room, eatin' grouper

Shoe fly shoo, Wally Don Clark crew
Fuck y'all wanna do? Crack a brew, smoke an L or two
And flip like killin' for the whole click is sick like
You and your stank bitch eat a dick like
Baby shake your shit
Girl you're thick like
Gettin' rich like
Yeah

There's no love to be found

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The Road &Amp; The Sky - Lyrics - Jackson Browne

Title: The Road &Amp; The Sky
Artist: Jackson Browne
Composer(s): Jackson Browne

Lyric:
When we come to the place, where the road and the sky collide
Throw me over the edge and let my spirit glide
They told me, I was going to have to work for a living
But all I want to do is ride
I don't care, where we're going from here, honey, you decide

Well I spend my time at the bottom of a wishing well
And I can hear my dreams singing clear as a bell
I used to know where they ended and the world began
But now it's getting hard to tell
I could be just around the corner from Heaven or a mile from Hell

I'm just rolling away from yesterday
Behind the wheel of a stolen Chevrolet
I'm going to get a little higher
And see if I can hot-wire reality

Now can you see those dark clouds gathering up ahead?
They're going to wash this planet clean like the Bible said
Now you can hold on steady and try to be ready
But everybody's going to get wet
Don't think, it won't happen just because it hasn't happened yet

I'm just rolling away from yesterday
Behind the wheel of a stolen Chevrolet
I'm going to get a little higher
And see if I can hot-wire reality

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e067371e6c10c88f171eff3493cfd798

Fugazi - Lyrics - Fish

Title: Fugazi
Artist: Fish
Composer(s): Derek Dick, Mark Kelly, Peter Trewavas, Ian Mosley

Lyric:
Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a Blackheath cell
Extinguishing the fires in a private hell
Provoking the heartache to renew the license
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsule

Propping up the crust of the glitter conscience
Wrapped in the christening shard of a hangover
Baptized in tears from the real, tears from the real

Drowning in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race
Scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth
(Caress Ophelia's hand with breaststroke ambition)
(An albatross in the marry time tradition)

Sheathed with the Walkman wear the halo of distortion
Aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation
(She turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart)
(She hung herself around my neck)

From the time-life guardians in their conscience bubbles
Safe and dry in my sea of troubles
Nine to fives, with suitable ties

Cast adrift as their sideshow
(Sideshow)
Peepshow
(Peepshow)
Stereo hero becalm, be still, bewitch
Drowning, drowning in the real

The thief of Baghdad hides in Islington now
Praying deportation for his sacred cow
A legacy of romance from a twilight world
The dowry of a relative mystery girl

A Vietnamese flower, a dockland union
A mistress of release from a magazine's thighs
Magdalene's contract more than favors
The feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throat

A son of the Swastika of '45, parading a peroxide standard
Graffiti disciples conjure testaments of hatred
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights
Trim the barbed wire hedges, this is Brixton chess

A knight for embankments folds his newspaper castle
A creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin
He'll fade with old soldiers in the grease stained roll call
And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's last supper

Son watches father scan obituary columns
In search of absent school friends
While his generation digests high fiber ignorance
Cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted windows

Decriminalized genocide
Provided door to door Belsens
Pandora's box of holocausts
Gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens

Waiting, waiting the season of the button
The penultimate migration
Radioactive perfumes for the fashionably
For the terminally insane, insane

Do-do-do you realize
Do-do-do you realize
Do-do-do you realize
This world is totally fugazi

Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?

Where are the prophets?

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Fugazi - Lyrics - Marillion

Title: Fugazi
Artist: Marillion
Composer(s): Derek Dick, Mark Kelly, Peter Trewavas, Ian Mosley

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Lyric:
Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a Blackheath cell
Extinguishing the fires in a private hell
Provoking the heartache to renew the license
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile capsule

Propping up the crust of the glitter conscience
Wrapped in the christening shard of a hangover
Baptized in tears from the real, tears from the real

Drowning in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race
Scuttling through the damp electric labyrinth
(Caress Ophelia's hand with breaststroke ambition)
(An albatross in the marry time tradition)

Sheathed with the Walkman wear the halo of distortion
Aural contraceptive aborting pregnant conversation
(She turned the harpoon and it pierced my heart)
(She hung herself around my neck)

From the time-life guardians in their conscience bubbles
Safe and dry in my sea of troubles
Nine to fives, with suitable ties

Cast adrift as their sideshow
(Sideshow)
Peepshow
(Peepshow)
Stereo hero becalm, be still, bewitch
Drowning, drowning in the real

The thief of Baghdad hides in Islington now
Praying deportation for his sacred cow
A legacy of romance from a twilight world
The dowry of a relative mystery girl

A Vietnamese flower, a dockland union
A mistress of release from a magazine's thighs
Magdalene's contract more than favors
The feeding hands of western promise hold her by the throat

A son of the Swastika of '45, parading a peroxide standard
Graffiti disciples conjure testaments of hatred
Aerosol wands whisper where the searchlights
Trim the barbed wire hedges, this is Brixton chess

A knight for embankments folds his newspaper castle
A creature of habit, begs the boatman's coin
He'll fade with old soldiers in the grease stained roll call
And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's last supper

Son watches father scan obituary columns
In search of absent school friends
While his generation digests high fiber ignorance
Cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted windows

Decriminalized genocide
Provided door to door Belsens
Pandora's box of holocausts
Gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens

Waiting, waiting the season of the button
The penultimate migration
Radioactive perfumes for the fashionably
For the terminally insane, insane

Do-do-do you realize
Do-do-do you realize
Do-do-do you realize
This world is totally fugazi

Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, where are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?

Where are the prophets?

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51d7bb99895ef7accdfe260de118e5c3

Shaking Hand Incision - Lyrics - At The Drive In

Title: Shaking Hand Incision
Artist: At The Drive In
Composer(s): Jim Ward, Cedric Bixler, Pablo Hinojos, Tony Hajjar, Omar Rodriguez

Lyric:
Nothing ever changes
Except your scenery rearrangements
In the affectionate hands of horsepower assault
Best keep your pants on, boy behind the armour of fault

Homeless makeshift triggers
You'll never walk again
You'll never walk again

In the choked mouths of rivers
Parted like a sea of loaded infidelity
Best keep your stitched lips
Starched in a giggle

Homeless makeshift triggers
You'll never walk again
You'll never walk again

In piles of clothing sleep the
In piles of clothing sleep the
In piles of clothing sleep the

Stitched lips starched in a giggle
In piles of clothing sleep the dead
No wire coat hangers, never again
Never again, never again

Nothing ever changes
Except your scenery rearrangements
In the affectionate hands of horsepower assault
Best keep your pants on, boy behind the armor of fault
Stitched lips starched in a giggle, no wire coat hangers

Stitched lips starched in a giggle
Stitched lips starched, starched, starched
Stitched lips starched in a giggle, never again
Never again, never again

In piles of clothing sleep the
In piles of clothing sleep the

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5b6db1aeb9edfde1aa05aeba78fe0dfa

Rebels Of The Sacred Heart - Lyrics - Drunken Lullabies - Flogging Molly

Title: Rebels Of The Sacred Heart
Album: Drunken Lullabies
Artist: Flogging Molly
Composer(s): Dennis Casey, Matthew Hensley, Nathen A Jeglinski, David King, Bridget Regan, Robert Anthony Schmidt, George Edward Schwindt

Lyric:
Now I'm aimin' for Heaven
But probably wind up down in Hell
Where upon this alter
I will hang my guilt ridden head

But it's time, I'll take before I begin
Three sheets to the wind, three sheets to the wind
Yeah, it's time, I'll take before I begin
Three sheets to the wind, three sheets to the wind

Rebels are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be
Ah, no ball or chain no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart
I said no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart

Terrified of the open road
Yeah, where it leads, ya never know
But rest assured he'll be on you back
Yeah, the Holy Ghost through his tongues in black

As the band dog howls and the young girl cries
The blessed virgin in her proud dad's eye
The Albatross hangin' round your neck
Is the Cross you bear for your sins He bleeds

Rebels are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be
Ah, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart
I said, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart

Genuflect all you refugees who fled the land
Now on guilt you kneel
And say a prayer for those left behind
From beyond the pale to the Northern sky

So you saved your shillin's and your last six pence
'Cause in God's name they built a barbed wire fence
Be glad you sailed for a better day
But don't forget there'll be Hell to pay

Rebels are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be
Ah, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart
I said, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart

Resurrection, no protection, all things life must be
Ah, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart

Now bless me Father for I have sinned
But it's the same old story again and again and again
Ah well, such is the bread of an everyday life
From mornin' to noon to this shadowless-night
Ah well, such is the bread of an everyday life
From mornin' to noon to this shadowless-night

Rebels are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be
Ah, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart
I said, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart

Rebels are we, though heavy our hearts shall always be
Ah, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart
I said, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart
I said, no ball or chain, no prison shall keep
We're the rebels of the Sacred Heart

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7770ef99101bf3f9a727bbf870b38d18

Let’s Go - Lyrics - Desire - Pharoahe Monch

Title: Let’s Go
Album: Desire
Artist: Pharoahe Monch
Composer(s): C Cross, Troy Donald Jamerson

Lyric:
One for the money, two for the show
Three to get it crackin' in the hood, let's go

My rhymes pop like them nines
That clammy tote, but they rap lackluster shine
My shit busts like Busta Rhymes
Sniffin' lines of coke, that's all she wrote

On the quest to qualify for these inquisitive quotes
Quirk ass MC's be as queer as folk
Talkin' about, ?Nigga can rap?, no shit, Sherlock
Y'all just can't see me like Matt Murdoch

I'm the pinnacle rhyme kid
And any line of mine is criminal mind
And I blind 'er with original rhyme shit
Fall in line with the sick, cynical grime shit
Clinically approved for you to move your behind with

Timeless are world girls who get inspired with Pharoahe
Do you need to be reminded now?
Stick 'em up, it's that, get 'em up, it's that
Put 'em up, it's that, let's go

Get up, how we rock
Show them how we roll, yeah, yeah

Let's go, line 'em up, light it up
Fire it up, wire me up, let it blow
One for the money, two for the show
Three to get it crackin' in the hood, let's go

They research my stem cells, clone ten of me
Send one of 'em back in time just to get rid of me
Stop Pharoahe Monch from havin' verbal epiphanies
Now that's new definition to 'Your Own Worst Enemy'

I glisten man, stop snitchin' man
You use sex to sell, bring your Nextel to Sprint
Everythin' you represent is immoral
Singular, not plural

You and your sidekick get rid of that whack trio
I freeze MC's zero degrees below
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
You need to get loose to the heat of produce

From Long Beach to Boston
Your chicks text us like Dallas and Austin
I spark tireless illumination
Fire sixteen bars, wireless communication, let's go

Get up, how we rock
Show them how we roll, yeah, yeah

Let's go, line 'em up, light it up
Fire it up, wire me up, let it blow
One for the money, two for the show
Three to get it crackin' in the hood, let's go

Show them how we rock
Show them how we roll, yeah, yeah
Show them how we rock
Show them how we roll, yeah, yeah

Pharoahe Monch blows shows
M O N C H, M O N C H
Y?all know the name, let?s go
Hallelujah, Pharoahe marchin' to ya
The M O N C H, y'all know the name

Let's go, line it up, light it up
Fire it up, wire me up, let it blow
One for the money, two for the show
Three to get it crackin' in the hood

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3f793e95d763b752636d4c8d7f201cee

Young Nigga - Lyrics - Spice 1

Title: Young Nigga
Artist: Spice 1
Composer(s): Robert L Greene, Bernard Worrell, William Earl Collins, George Jr Clinton, Mark Ogleton, Shon Adams

Lyric:
Y'all ready to do this shit? Bust

When I was young, I had the lust to pull the trigger
And make change out a five dollar ass, nigga
And as time went on, I gained much love
But seein' niggas', guts bust at a nightclub

Too young to get my ass in but they didn't trip
'Cause if I didn't get in, they knew I'd start shit
So I was treated like the muthafuckin' Pope
Security see me, so they scope

And follow me around like a flock of hoes
I had a squab with a bitch with a big ass nose
I started to knock the bitch out but before I could
I'm stopped short by a redneck peckerwood

But he was slow, with the other hand slapped the hoe
Then security rushed us out the backdo'
So when I grabbed the nine, they thought I'd go nuts
I'd roll by and bust caps at the grownup's

Young nigga, got bold and got the liquor
As a young, yeah

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you

Well, what do you know, it's summer time
And every young nigga my age, is on the grind
Workin' for the city
A drugstore on every goddamn corner and niggas actin' shitty

About who sell, where and whose dope is it
So, some niggas around the block, they paid us a visit
But we ain't comin' off shit but a drive by
I guess they wanna expand to go city wide

So we hung muthafuckas by the barbed wire
Whoever was a snitch or bitch or liar
And five O is gettin' kinda dense
'Cause the wire was missin' from a county jail fence

Breakin' off boulders
And the niggas from around the block, they said they told us
Not to short stop, so my nigga got popped
I looked down and I'm shocked

To see him layin' dead by the bushes
As a young nigga

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you

Shit is gettin' hectic, my mission had to flow smooth
We hit the corner in a sixty-five old school
Bustin' at niggas twice my age
Muthafuckas catchin' heat from my guage

They tried to shoot back but it ain't like that
'Cause I'm the nigga with the biggest gat
Hoes get fucked and eat the bullet
'Cause the trigger that got my nigga, one of them had to pull it

My nigga with the nine said, "Forget it"
But I seen a nigga point his finger and say, "He did it"
I loaded up the clip and shot him in the dick
And kept on bustin' till his leg kicked

Now we Audi 5000, gee
The glasspacks on the sixty-five, got noisy
We had to smash
'Cause five O was right behind our ass

We had to get away, we dumped the A.K.
And the guage in the bushes on the way
The cops kept bustin', niggas kept cussin'
About which way to go fussin'

We hit the corner and they bust
At some niggas lookin' just like us
We knew it was about that time
Hopped out my homeboy's shit and into mine

We got away because they couldn't figure
Which one of the boys was that young nigga

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you

He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
He said, "Young ass, nigga"
You dumb nigga, you
...

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07a55b80fc6ad10099658af386158e04

Darkroom - Lyrics - Archive

Title: Darkroom
Artist: Archive
Composer(s): Roy Arab, D Griffiths, D Keeler, R John

Lyric:
In darkroom, in darkroom
In darkroom, in darkroom
In darkroom

Face in my hands, admiring that view over again
Pictures would tell me, it's only my fear
So I'll try, I'll try to hear what I like
And I'll try to hide what I fear

Ever moving over to the way I wanna be
Attract an energy
Past time stored in my memory
As we are struggling to make sense of the human nature
Distraction like a fairground, attraction

Communication interacts like we
So reason over remedy ready me infinitely
But lately, I admit hard times have hit
But still I like knowing, I'll break through

The fluid flows, the seed grows
And the life goes on and the fight goes on
In this the Babylon we carry on
Surviving, striving, taking
Everyday watching time go by

And I tangle with stress feel strained from stress
Man made hell yes, recess less I be mistaken
I be taking all the ways, life heralding the hark
I embark like a light in the dark

Define definition in my focus
Living in a room over the far side view
I am surrounded by the border of disorder
So I oughta be stable and able
To lift my hand and take an opportunity
Sinking down into quicksand time

Another number never I endeavor like time is forever
Expanding, in material is the original principle
Now the icon is God, sad case in the rat race
Erasing all the memory of something
That they can't quite comprehend

I end the line to the live wire
My entire trickle down lava flow blood fire
I attack with my brain seeing eye vision
Looking over my terrain day by day
Stay same in the land of chaos and disorder
Living behind the light we're surrounded
By a border in the darkroom

Darkroom

Face in my hands, admiring that view over again
Pictures would tell me, it's only my fear
So I'll try, I'll try to hear what I like
And I'll try to hide what I fear

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705b16bb2f7106ec55f6ccf1c30337cd

Higher Wall - Lyrics - New Model Army

Title: Higher Wall
Artist: New Model Army
Composer(s): Jason Harris, Justin Sullivan

Lyric:
We're out here on the borders with our favorite few possessions
Trading stories whispered round the fire
As shadows in the searchlights, mugshots in the files
Waiting in the camps behind the wire

Kick the door until it opens, what you have you cannot hold
We are young, forever hungry, you are fat and growing old

And every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall
Every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall

We picked the leaves of coca, we stack the crates of cola
We wait upon the tables where you dine
And we learn from you not to accept the little that we're given
To take the piece of silver where we can

and clutching at these papers in another office line
We're staring from the darkness up at windows filled with light

And every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall
Every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall
Every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall
Every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall

In my town we used to pray to idols sent from far away
From out beyond the dusty days, we heard your voices call
And in your town the streets are cleaned
The order stands, the sirens scream
You talk of peace, vacation dreams and reinforce the wall

Now in your queues at immigration, in the border zone
We are your bastard children, yeah, all coming home

And still day you try, you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall
Every day you try to build a higher wall, a higher wall

And your money cannot stop us
And your theory cannot stop us
No you will never stop us with your higher wall
Your higher wall, your higher wall
Your higher wall

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f3360029f7da0851b2b22df4146ca7c3

G.O.D. Pt. Iii - Lyrics - Hell On Earth - Mobb Deep

Title: G.O.D. Pt. Iii
Album: Hell On Earth
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Kejuan Muchita, Albert Johnson, G Moroder

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Some of that 151, son, yeah, some of that bogus
Aight, aiyyo, son, yo, yo
You think that motherfuckin' nigga's out there right now, son?
Word, what he doin' out here?

Son, we got drama with that nigga
Be tryin' to fuckin' front last week
What, that kid out there?
Yo, I seen that nigga earlier, knahmsayin'?

Nah, fuck that, go, go open the window real quick, son
Open that fuckin' window
You gonna take him from the window, nigga?
Yo, hold up, that, there go, that's that nigga right there, son
Right next to the basketball court?

Yeah, yeah, that's the one
Oh, shit, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, turn the lights out
Turn the lights out, c'mon through
Back up, back up, they lookin'

Aiyyo, son, I'ma hit that nigga right now, son
Word to Mom, I'ma hit him out the window, son
Yo, you buggin', son, nah, chill 'Zo, fuck that
I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin' window

Hold up, you want somebody go bust him?
Nah fuck, that I'ma hit this nigga out the window, son
Ga head, man, shit, shit, shit, don't blow it up, duck down

Yo, let me do it, man, let me do it, go 'head
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga, yeah
Yeah, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, fucker, what?

Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yeah, that's a small thing

G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

Awright, now pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P
Keepin' you niggaz in perspective
Mobb, representative, call me the specialist
Professional professor at this rap science

Up in the laboratory, here's why your small rhyme bore me
Store bought rap ain't shit, my category
Is that of an insane who strike back
I draw first blood, it's over with and that's that

You wanna square off, sayin' slice that cat?
You get splashed from back of your head to ass crack
Surgical signs to the end with iron map
Which bring Apocalypse to this game called rap

Not a game but quite serious and yo, in fact
You'll be runnin' for dear life so far you might fall off the map
Fuckin' with P, you need a gat
At least to have the opportunity to bust back

First shot, the motherfucker pack around world premier
Shook individuals bound from blind fear
Scared to death niggaz fall to they worst fear
Horror tales in Braille for vision impaired

You lookin' for P, well, you can find him everywhere
In a project near you, I'll be right there
I was brought up and taught to have no fear
Live wire niggaz stay behind me in the rear

Cowardly hearts step aside, stand clear
My bloodthirsty niggaz got they eyes on you
QBC, lime Bacardi, G.O.D. Father Pt. III
On some hashish in Embassy Suite, crash your party

Yo, it's the G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

It's the, G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

Yeah, yo, lime Bacardi, gettin' bent, crash the party
Handle B-I, bringin' it to anybody
Physical damage, crowd control handle cannons
Hittin' you ripped, leave your bloodstream contamin-ed

While you actin' out of character, we observin'
Drillin' 'em down so hard, I know we felt it comin' at 'em
Hennessey raps float like the Phantom
Runnin' you up out of the spot in which you standin'

Never second-guess a cat who hold gat
Concealed but easily revealed and fast
Body castin' raps to get your back snapped in half
And severed, impossible pain beyond measure

Sheisty livin' brought him to his last bread
Life changed around quick to one stead
Face full of fear, conquerin' your ice grill
Tragedies, put him to sleep like NyQuil

Givin' a overdose of this rap potent
Potentially dangerous, fatally left open
For the roaches, scavengers, that's EMS
Funeral homes, anticipatin' your death

That's the dead truth, check in the morgue
You'll find proof enough to make you think and stop before
Your ship sink to the bottom
Night owl leave the mark and spot him
You know the routine, face up before I shot him

Yo, it's the G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

It's the, G.O., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

What? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
G.O.D., Father Pt. III, niggaz

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54eb86ddb5d44319e2f29f137caae7e6

G.O.D. Pt. Iii (Remix) - Lyrics - Soundtrack Exclusives & Rarities - Mobb Deep

Title: G.O.D. Pt. Iii (Remix)
Album: Soundtrack Exclusives & Rarities
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Kejuan Muchita, Albert Johnson, G Moroder

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Some of that 151, son, yeah, some of that bogus
Aight, aiyyo, son, yo, yo
You think that motherfuckin' nigga's out there right now, son?
Word, what he doin' out here?

Son, we got drama with that nigga
Be tryin' to fuckin' front last week
What, that kid out there?
Yo, I seen that nigga earlier, knahmsayin'?

Nah, fuck that, go, go open the window real quick, son
Open that fuckin' window
You gonna take him from the window, nigga?
Yo, hold up, that, there go, that's that nigga right there, son
Right next to the basketball court?

Yeah, yeah, that's the one
Oh, shit, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, turn the lights out
Turn the lights out, c'mon through
Back up, back up, they lookin'

Aiyyo, son, I'ma hit that nigga right now, son
Word to Mom, I'ma hit him out the window, son
Yo, you buggin', son, nah, chill 'Zo, fuck that
I'ma hit that nigga right out the motherfuckin' window

Hold up, you want somebody go bust him?
Nah fuck, that I'ma hit this nigga out the window, son
Ga head, man, shit, shit, shit, don't blow it up, duck down

Yo, let me do it, man, let me do it, go 'head
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, nigga, yeah
Yeah, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, fucker, what?

Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yeah, that's a small thing

G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

Awright, now pay attention to the crime rhyme Houdini P
Keepin' you niggaz in perspective
Mobb, representative, call me the specialist
Professional professor at this rap science

Up in the laboratory, here's why your small rhyme bore me
Store bought rap ain't shit, my category
Is that of an insane who strike back
I draw first blood, it's over with and that's that

You wanna square off, sayin' slice that cat?
You get splashed from back of your head to ass crack
Surgical signs to the end with iron map
Which bring Apocalypse to this game called rap

Not a game but quite serious and yo, in fact
You'll be runnin' for dear life so far you might fall off the map
Fuckin' with P, you need a gat
At least to have the opportunity to bust back

First shot, the motherfucker pack around world premier
Shook individuals bound from blind fear
Scared to death niggaz fall to they worst fear
Horror tales in Braille for vision impaired

You lookin' for P, well, you can find him everywhere
In a project near you, I'll be right there
I was brought up and taught to have no fear
Live wire niggaz stay behind me in the rear

Cowardly hearts step aside, stand clear
My bloodthirsty niggaz got they eyes on you
QBC, lime Bacardi, G.O.D. Father Pt. III
On some hashish in Embassy Suite, crash your party

Yo, it's the G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

It's the, G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

Yeah, yo, lime Bacardi, gettin' bent, crash the party
Handle B-I, bringin' it to anybody
Physical damage, crowd control handle cannons
Hittin' you ripped, leave your bloodstream contamin-ed

While you actin' out of character, we observin'
Drillin' 'em down so hard, I know we felt it comin' at 'em
Hennessey raps float like the Phantom
Runnin' you up out of the spot in which you standin'

Never second-guess a cat who hold gat
Concealed but easily revealed and fast
Body castin' raps to get your back snapped in half
And severed, impossible pain beyond measure

Sheisty livin' brought him to his last bread
Life changed around quick to one stead
Face full of fear, conquerin' your ice grill
Tragedies, put him to sleep like NyQuil

Givin' a overdose of this rap potent
Potentially dangerous, fatally left open
For the roaches, scavengers, that's EMS
Funeral homes, anticipatin' your death

That's the dead truth, check in the morgue
You'll find proof enough to make you think and stop before
Your ship sink to the bottom
Night owl leave the mark and spot him
You know the routine, face up before I shot him

Yo, it's the G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

It's the, G.O., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

G.O.D., Father Pt. III
QBC, sip lime Bacardi
Heavy on the wrist, cube-link, my ice ring
Drama, we bring, yo, that's a small thing

What? Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
G.O.D., Father Pt. III, niggaz

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6637718f213edaf95e60041a75118910

Under The Influence - Lyrics - The Marshall Mathers LP - Eminem

Title: Under The Influence
Album: The Marshall Mathers LP
Artist: Eminem
Composer(s): De Shaun Dupree Holton, Mark Randy Bass, Rufus B Johnson, Jeff Bass, Ondre C Moore, Denaun M Porter, Von M Carlisle, Marshall B Iii Mathers

Lyric:
So you can suck my dick if you don't like my shit
'Cause I was high when I wrote this so suck my dick

Two pills I pop, 'til my pupils swell up like two pennies
I'm Clint Eastwood in his mid twenties
A young ass man with a trash can strapped to the back of his ass
So the rats can't chew through his last pants

I'm like a mummy at night, fightin' with bright lightning
Frightened with five little white Vicadin' pills bitin' him
I'm like a fuckin' wasp in the hospital lost
Stingin' the fuck outta everything I come across in the halls

I light a candle and place it up on the mantle
Grab a knife at the blade and stab you with the fuckin' handle
So when you find yourself wrapped up in the blinds, hurtin'
Bitch it's too late
'Cause once you're hung from the drapes, it's curtains

I'm an instigator, 380 slug penetrator
Degradin', creatin' murders to kill haters
Accused for every crime known through the equator
They knew I did it for havin' blood on my 'gators

My weed'll hit yo' chest like a double barrel gauge an'
I'm a black grenade that'll blow up in yo' face
With a fifth in me, when I guzzle Remi I do shit on purpose
You never hear me say, forgive me

I'm snatchin' every penny it gotta be that way nigga, face it
That weed I sold to you, brigade laced it
You hidin' I make the president get a facelift
Niggaz just afraid, handin' me they bracelets

Chillin' in the lab wasted
I'm the type that'll drink kahlua and gin throw up on the mic
Your life is ruined, you get socked right on site
And even at the million man March we gon' fight

So you can suck my dick if you don't like my shit
'Cause I was high when I wrote this so suck my dick
'Cause I don't give a fuck if you don't like my shit
'Cause I was high when I wrote this so suck my dick

I'm a compulsive liar, settin' my preacher on fire
Slashin your tires, flyin' down Fenkel and Meyers
Plates expired, soon as I'm hired, I'm fired
Jackin' my dick off in a bed of barbed wire

(Hey, is Bizarre performing?)
Bitch didn't you read the flyer?
Special invited guest will be, Richard Pryor
(Aren't you a male dancer?)
Nah bitch, I'm retired
Fuckin' your bitch in the ass with a tire iron

I'm ripped, I'm on an acid trip
My DJ's in a coma for lettin' the record skip
Lettin' the record skip
Lettin' the record skip
(Damn!)

I'm fuckin' anything when I'm snortin'
It's gonna cost 300 dollars to get my pit bull an abortion
Some bitch asked for my autograph
I called her a whore, spit beer in her face and laughed
I drop bombs like I was in Vietnam
All bitches is hoes, even my stinkin' ass mom

Aiyyo flashback, two feets, two deep up in that ass crack
Weed laced with somethin' nigga pass that
In Amsterdam we only hang out with hash rats
At a stop the violence rally, I blast gats

Be your mom on publishin', get your ass capped
The Kuniva, divide up your cash stack
Want your motherfuckin' pockets,ascap
I don't need a platinum chain, bitch I snatch Shaq's

Born loser, half theif and half black
Bring your boys and your guns and get laughed at
Bitch smacker, rich rappers get their jag jacked
And found chopped up in a trash bag

We stranglin' rappers until the point they can't yell
'Cause they crew is full of fags and sweeter than bake sales
Reckless, come from behind and snatch your necklace
Gruesome and causin more violence than nine hoodlums

I grapple your Adam's apple until it crackle
Run right past you, turn around, grab you and stab you
Get executed, cuz I'm a luni
I got a yuk mouth and it's polluted, I cock it back then shoot it

I love snatchin' up players thugs and young ballers
Shoot up the household, even the young toddlers
Brigade barricade to bring the noise
While the bullets break your bones up like Christmas toys

If I go solo, I'm doin a song with Bolo
A big Chinese nigga, screamin Kuniva yo yo
I leave ya face leakin' run up in church
And smack the preacher while he's preachin
Take a swing at the deacon

I used to tell cats that I sold weed and weight
I was straight 'til I got caught sellin' 'em shake
I'm ignorant, with the intent to snatch your rent
I got kicked out of summer camp for havin sex in my tent
With the superintendent's daughter, my brain's out of order

I've been a Kon Artis since I was swimmin' in water
In cahoots with this nigga named fall out von
Who got fired from UPS for tryin' to send you a bomb
I signed to a local label for fun
Say I got cancer, get dropped, take the advancement and run

Driveby you in the rain while you carry your son
Call your house and hang up on you for not givin' me none
Born straight up out a pussy but a son of a gun
Got a reputation for havin niggaz runnin' they funds
Used to be the type of nigga that was foldin some one's
'Til I met your fat mama, now I'm rollin' in dough

So you can suck my dick if you don't like my shit
'Cause I was high when I wrote this so suck my dick
'Cause I don't give a fuck if you don't like my shit
'Cause I was high when I wrote this so suck my dick

Suck my motherfuckin dick, D-12 dirty motherfuckin' dozen
Nasty like a stank slut bitch with thirty fuckin husbands
Bizarre kid, swifty McVeigh, The Kon Artis
The Kuniva, Dirty Harry and Slim Shady

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