letra de buttered sausage - aisle 9
gort
[verse 1]
praise immortality, 40 ounces of lead
crackin’ it out the window like i ain’t afraid of death
man, what?
certified to street walkin’
i’ll see a million before i see a coffin, ah
you run to mama ‘fore you turn a profit, sh-t
you think that .22’s doin’ somethin’?
be ashamed, f-ggot
you ain’t used to shootin’ nothin’
powder dusted fingertips, blood thirsty eyes
[?], and yeah, you want me
i’ll be back tonight wit’ a stack
if i’m not, then forget me
i’m the voice inside ya head that tells you not to tread gently
stomp
shut up, b-tch, i’m talkin’
you the type of dyk- i’d like to beat unconscious
pocket full of fentanyl, and yes, i’m often
supеrsized the liquor in my gin and tonic, ah
motherf-ckеr, i am awesome
stompin’ out goons in my gator shoes often, like
you ain’t used to seeing that
brain a motherf-cker with a nail ridden, see the bat
live la vida loca, you ain’t smokin’ nothin’ close to gas, ah
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