Dead Hours

(album: Devilish Trio Vol. II - 2017)

[Baker:]
Basking in this afterglow of power
Feelin like I'm chosen
In the strike of the dead hours
It's the fear that leaves you frozen
In the corner of your room
A shadow stands and softly whispers
Every thought that comes to mind is of demise
Ya slowly slippin
In that murder-murder redrum
Backwards speaking serpent tongues
A detriment I have become throughout the land you'll hear it sung
Bring the worship to my feet
I rock the cradle of the beast
Never known who I am
It is the master of mystique
Feel the creep of the bugs as they crawl under skin
I cast these evil thoughts into your mind
Now watch my rain begin
Hallucinations mass devastation
I'll soon be tasting
Power like no other so corrupted
By the force of faithless
Rebel yell give'em hell
Fuck the opposition
I will not eat what I am feed
There's poison in the vision
Change the source and break the will
Recode this mind to see what's real
Never scared of the feel I chase it for a new thrill
Deadly touch gore lust I want to feel the rush
Crushing all my enemies inside my hand they turn to dust
Incinerate these abomination no room for weak
Just Close your eyes and sense the line
There's nowhere for ya to retreat
Pray to this trinity of 3
These unholy venomous ways
Will getcha caught up in the dark so be careful of what you say
Crossing boundary's of the norm
I meditate within the storm
The thunder glows upon my horns
Within my eyes, you see the scorn

[Hydra:]
I must admit that I'm insane
Deep in my mind, I've seen the proof
Upon inspection of my brain, it shows the violence I produce
It's evident that everyone is out to get me even birds are staring down they send malevolence within their evil chirps
But still, I seem to keep it calm
Because in life there is a purpose
Suicide is not the answer
Let the trio guide you further
Light your blunt put down the gun
The trinity will spit its sermon
We don't need no interruptions
Cut that noose and stop your squirming
Motherfucker
You got some tats and now you think that you're a God
Don't claim to be holdin Glocks
In the south when you're really not
You're a mockery just a flop
Spittin garbage within your copies of Memphis shit and it's not even relevant
We can't understand you
Our founding fathers are rolling within their graves
All these phonies and imitations
Are ruining what was sacred
We rap just to get away
Only facts but these fuckin fakes had a different outlook on things
I guess weakness is cool today
This world is gone
I can't believe it
Our music has been infected by ignorance and depression
Ignoring the hidden message
That people are supposed to hear
Instead of poppin all that Xanax
Busta boy just slit yo wrists and kill yo damn self
I'll let the demons just decide on what to do with all that's rotten
And sickened you cannot change armageddon
What was it worth in the end?
I hope you learned a good lesson
Now bow your head to the three
And feel the weight of the devil