Now I'm dead to no dismay My body reeks, my flesh decays All is gone now, the hate and the pain Reality down the drain and I will rot in my grave And
I'm dead to no dismay, my body reeks, my flesh decays! All is gone now, the hate and the pain, reality down the drain. And I will rot in my grave, and
Превод: Гушење жртвама. У гроба мог.
I'm dead to no dismay, My body reeks, my flesh decays! All is gone now, the hate and the pain, Reality down the drain. And I will rot in my grave, And
chill Gotta make ah mil but ah nine kick off for real Nigga drop that bill or I pop my steel Ain't no competition don't fuck wid my clik And so listen
in the trust that I gave you Whoa, I hope this ash it chokes your throat until you're in your grave My heart won't be broken My heart won't be broken My
12 guage put your ass in the grave plot With blood clots and gun shots the church bells be ringin I'm out of my mind I'm out of control and my head just
sell My soul My self-esteem a dollar at a time For one chance One kiss One taste of you my black madonna I'd sell My soul My self-esteem a dollar at
of giving head A sharp rear entry, an exit in red Lump in the throat, on my come choke The killing joke worn thin with breath Horror scopes my diorama
roads While the rubber necking strangers Are dying to see these victims wounds Cause he's all alone With his notebooks and poems In this open grave where
a train i'll stick a fang in your blood bank then strangle my shangle mangle you like the triangle piece of an angle I think my shit's too brutal for
mil but ah nine kick off for real Nigga drop that bill or I pop my steel Ain't no competition don't fuck wid my clik And so listen you bitches stay trippin
bitter night of giving head A sharp rear entry, an exit in red Lump in the throat, on My come choke The killing joke worn thin with breath Horrorscopes My
life away. there is nothing better than watching you choke on glass. every gasp for air hurts more and more. digging a grave deeper every time you fall victim
by a train I'll stick a fang in your blood bank then strangle my shangle bangle you like the triangle piece of an angle I think my shit's too brutal for
suburban roads while the rubber necking strangers are dying to see this victim's wounds cause he?s all alone with his notebooks and poems in this empty grave
