Joe Spinell

(альбом: The Circle Of Tyrants - 2005)

[Mr Hyde:]
Metaphysical, satanic, a dramatic episode
I bet my scissors will wreak havoc on lymphatic nodes and toes
You ain't met a killer yet with intellect to fill a Tec
That's why I slit your neck and jet and have a second side of [?]
All you'll get is silhouettes and not a drop of DNA
While you rot away, decay, I'm being jocked at VMAs
See it matters that you scatter when I shoot the 45th
Cause you could get your data spider out of your computer chip
How does it feel that you were hit, when the Glock that I shot rang
After I pop your top, I load your pockets with loose change
We get to smother guys after a baby's mother dies
Traumatized by my replies to dumb fucks with knives
Hyde's rotten, disdainful, sick, and plotting to maim you
It's hot and painful when you're shot with a brainful
We're bringing out the dead, drill and drink up what you bled
Sleeping with your mother's carcass, and it's stinking up my bed

[ILL Bill:]
Sleaze merchant, my diseased verses freeze meat curtains
Chop you in little pieces like white castle cheeseburgers
Even worse than the prostitution of teen virgins
Double D nurses surrounded by murderous creeps and perverts
Circle of surgeons, the urgent, prose of perversion
Doctors with shotguns, surgery, 2009 version
The most evasive, with explosive hatred
Cultivation of the ultimate code to Satan
It's a bizarre and repulsive nation
It embraces your soul like murder initiation
Suicidal ayatollah, more aliver than an Al Qaeda soldier
With a dirty bomb on his shoulders
You are entering the Circle of Tyrants
A world of sex, money, drugs, murder, and violence
We the next step after the planes
The bullet that exits your skull after it splatter your brains

[Goretex:]
Garbage bags from Ronnie, two shotties from '94
Body you down with the same frown that I had before
I ain't at war with Satan, it seems this is my destiny
On my shoulder, these feelings like he's the only one next to me
The urge to splurge on your chest, it manifests
My new set we chew through your flesh, putrid, like poop sex
Lounges of my shovels, still damp from the bloody waters
The balls to ambush your crib, rocking a grill like fucking Mortiis
Chainsaws and taurens, aimed at clitorises
Young vixens in coffins, victims in storage, cut into meaty portions
Cause I'm sneaky, rip the fucking corpse and I'm off
Light a torch, wizard of gore and killing for villains, we set it off
Keys to the mortuary deep in his suit
Tools of the trade, I'm equipped to drain your image for food
I'm gross as hell like I'm Joe Spinell
I treat hoes like mannequins slashing their throat with shells
Like post mortem with bells

[Necro:]
Nothing like a violent vignette with a murderous minuet
If you ain't got no fear, it's cause I ain't put any in you yet
Blinding you with science, give you an acid eye rince
Your asinine pastor gets blasted by the Circle of Defiance
I'll hurt you again, perform surgery with a pen
I'm like ten cats in one, I'm one cat that murders ten!
Leave you looking like melted American cheese
Rotting like Lou Gehrig's disease, somebody bury you please!
My popular stances are vile like testocular cancer
Like Pazuzu's grill or the posture of a pastor
Get away from me when I change into a stranger
With a banger, cause the word "anger" is one letter short of "danger"
Spread like a herpes whore, it's Murphy's Law
Everything goes wrong, but we stay strong like a serpent's jaw
Strangle you, kick you in the skull, like a kangaroo
I'm like pachenga, juxin with [?], you're through!