*instrumental*
(Instrumental)
Превод: Мурдер би Деатх. Оне који су отишли.
Those who live fearing death, might as well be dead Towers of the occupiers, will soon fall Martyr or mass murderer? That's your call Mass transit or a mall? Who
right or wrong You can't murder what's dead We walk the pavement with, one in the head Now what I stands for I rise for, my man's who I die for Blows
the area on any motherfucker to disrespect In a second use a weapon smith and westin or attack Youngster or fucking vest who's get checked or to the next Who
you lost For the ones who boast Whats the outcome of this roller coast Drive by and retaliation glock infrared We screw up on it by an inch and hit the
murder me and i?m a, murderer so I murdered it and you n***** is what i eatin ill make sure of it and he who don?t believe me I?ll make dessert of him
and murder and still I say murder Butchery and murder and still I say murder Wait! Hold up cos Phrase will break the mould Culture growing stronger
death could not ensnare, this blameless man's perfect soul. The Lord wished it known. He came with love from resurrection, Not with revenge but redemption. Indignation set aside from those who
from hitting me, then we run out of breath, We take a breather, then it's right back to a fight to our death, You scratch like a cat, you left plenty
Telling the Feds everything they wanna know That fatal blow took his very last breath The power of the tongue, is life and death, you feel me? There was a murder by
it Being ground down fine, by those who haven't got the time For they shall punish those who sin Toss the peasants live into the bin Of those who won'
people out of a crowd and line them up for execution, The only alternative left was to increase the death rate, Something else had to be done that would
t trust me? Picture myself a old man, a O.G. Some niggas will conversate with liers all day, time pass Nah, lemme start somethin' else Soul on ice, death threats given by
my teeth, my boobs, my nose From just some dumb mechanic's wife I'm gonna be Roxie Who says that murders not an art? And who in case she doesn't hang
[I. Benighted Like Usher] Snuffed tapers sighed As Death left impressing His crest of cold tears on the Countess Benighted like ill-fated Usher The
