but over Here's your pair of dice You can feel it in the air And your heart is filled with terror Crushing boulders Fall from the sky As defiant earth
Terror This is what you call me I strike terror among men I can't be bothered by what they think I bare my cross, my soul, myself I forgive but I never
the troops Like a Saint that we can trust to help to carry us through Black Jesus, ha ha ha ha ha He's like a Saint that we can trust to help to carry
Hold up If the Jesus piece around your neck is bigger than your pistol It makes homicide okay donkey and your god will forgive you Just show the saints
head Savage eyes seek vengeance in the shadows of teh night Evil angels death disciples writhe with their delight Full moon is glowin' & you turn toward the sky Eternal saints
faces feel the chill of the fog rolling let me bring you, tales of terror let me bring you, the macabre tale of Hallows Eve, let me bring you terror
Watch the gods, take revenge Rot in hell, For your sins Sacrifice, to the sky Terrors strikes, you will die Taste the blood of the dead As the sky turns
la rectitude comme d'hab' dans le sud J'represente pour mon hip-hop du sud, ouais du sud J'brule sur mes rimes die des interimes on s'en tanne boy Skywalker moules sky
young If this Jesus piece around your neck is bigger than your pistol It makes homicide okie-dokie and your god will forgive you Just show the saints
, rally the troops like a Saint that we can trust to help to carry us through Black Jesus, hahahahaha He's like a Saint that we can trust to help to carry
NIKKFURIE : Seine-Saint-Denis, la ou les bronzes n?font pas d?sky , La ou Hutch ne s?ballade jamais sans Starsky ! Une rapide maturite, malades de Parkinson
Watch the gods take revenge Rot in hell for your sins Sacrifice, to the sky Terror strikes, you will die Taste the blood of the dead As the sky turns
This is what you call me... I strike terror among men I can't be bothered with what I think I bare my cross, my soul, myself I forgive ... but I never
Ways of beliefs were written down to please you: saints, common thieves - each one his own to pick. So why - can you tell me - your breed's inventing
