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letra de midnight (ft. myka 9) - chip the black boy

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[myka 9:]
chip, in the backpack
we’re about to go out

torture, terror, awful, feel the death
devil, demon, h-ll, to nothing left
pain, give up the ghost and make a mess
once the chip’s on your shoulder you may be next

[chip:]
caroling, i careen down the steps
of the church as it bursts into bits
i’m the thing that bites in the nights
i wrong rights
cutting wires
starting fires while you rest

[myka 9:]
stab a ghoul the knife is in the chest
evil, bl–dy zombie from a hex
decapitated corpses on the set
scream in chilling cold
it’s dark and wеt

[chip:]
the mane of the slain bеast i pet
tugging reigns with insane shrieks
inflecting the pitch of the sacred tongue of the father of aphids
eating the katydids, everyday it is…
[myka 9:]
…hallowen to k!ll a psycho threat
do the damage on panicking people pets
skeletal remains along the trek
brutal axe and chainsaw the neck

[chip:]
star extinguishing
brandishing flesh-eating bacteria
nearing the school cafeteria
circling red rosies, ash throwing
boat rowing upstream in gross things, erect

[myka 9:]
decomposing body parts and pests
disemboweled dreaded weary flesh
the eeriness and foggy foul breath
from a gruesome graveyard architect

[chip:]
dissecting your best attempts at second-guessing
arresting your inquistion with questions
injecting festering sores with pestilence
brokering sordid investments

[myka 9:]
with the sinister decadence laid to rest
through the menaning misery on a quest
to the multitude morbid and feeling vexed
from the nastiness needles to poke and peck
[chip:]
i’m the geek chicken pecking my own neck
playing hide-and-go-seek with myself, courting death
i’m the burning branch davidian, igniting the meridian
giving in to the living end

[myka 9 & chip:]
nightmares in oblivion, greet the guest
holy host held down by the h-llhound
with perverted obsessions to pull and press
arresting the innocent and spellbound
putrefication and rottenness, even stress
test of time failed, a minefield’s dirge, egress
only the scourge of the purge is able to jest
cracking wise on your back in the gallows in the locker!

[myka 9:]
from the shadows a shocker making progress
use every venomous vapor that they detest
stalking lunatic torment the trouble, yes
unknown ugliness, villainous disrespect

[chip:]
dealing this deck stacked
a bad hand, a bad touch
a pouch clutched, holding broken heartstrings and tear ducts
i’m sucked into the void with voided vow and vacant chest

- chip the black boy

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