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Casper

Homocide

 

Homocide

(альбом: Grundstein - 2013)


Lesson number one: I'm fresher than all MCs combined
Number two: your shit's doubtful like surviving in a field full of mines
Damn right, walk up in your venue passively[?] millenium Vietnam
During the last time at your high school prom
Freshman hunting season take him rather the broadcast
Get your smart ass off, swalling a gallon of car gas
My car smashed a tree, her rover landed in mud
Imagine this, I wrote this lyrics with the last drips of my blood
There is something drooling under the bed, grabbing for legs, bloodshed
It's going down baby, the comic wallpapers now blood red
It's sunset a lounge surrounded by nymphomaniac lesbians
Act a fool, clap around, get crazy, drunk to the fest again
Act a fool mo'fucker get skin-stripped alive
A hydra beast compared to me is like a cake versus a knife
Never try to teach your pitbull new tricks
I get psyched up like Kubrick whoop your ass like kung-fu-flicks

Slip your throat, slit your wrist, kill your wife, bumping this
And your life follows it, this is it: homocide
Slip your throat, slit your wrist, let your kids bumping this
And your life follows it, this is it: homocide

H-o-m-o-c-i-d-e
H-o-m-o-c-i-d-e

Never seem to win less hits in a trailblazer
Written in sages, rap so sharp I piss razors
Alright, bitch, take one [?], get one free
My style's unlimited like Eckowear, hot like Beyonce
Join the hardest pool contest [?] anyday
I led a porn with midgets, nonsense, but cool anyway
Non-metaphorical strictly in your face shit -[?]
The composition which I blasted
Tasted like blood, divine intervention
Intentions that killed humanity, the H bomb was my invention
Clumsy enter the house, left a segment[?]
Don't know why it always seemed to get in fights with pregnant women
Steady sitting, celebrate partys on jewish graveyards
Save [?] for funerals to die for my shit like Braveheart

Slip your throat, slit your wrist, kill your wife, bumping this
And your life follows it, this is it: homocide
Slip your throat, slit your wrist, let your kids bumping this
And your life follows it, this is it: homocide

Known criminal in dark years, one hundred thirty three
Murder me and certainly return for facial surgery
Tracks like shotgun, blow your brain and spurt all over
Too much soda, run over rap like a bulldozer
Never stop talking, worse than a bartender
[?] propaganda dressed up as a mall santa
Pretend a heart attack-fake, then blow shit up with a fake device
Devilish evil, for sex I get beat up by naked dikes
Hitchhike, forbid a rhyme, cause silence
Snuck into a police bus, slit his throat and stole his driver's license
(Drivers licence, drivers licence, drivers licence...)

готово

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