letras.top
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de the greatest mystery of all - cult of the damned

Loading...

[verse 1: bill shakes]
i’m ill mate, staring at you with a pill-face
(what they call you son?)
they call me bill shakes
i’m ill mate, staring at you with a pill-face
(what they call you son?)
they call me bill shakes

awkward balance awky[?] staggered
and broken floorboards my mattress
happily settle for appalling standards
causing havoc, we concocting thoughts of madness
summers supporting organ damage
when i lose i’ve won, so produce your funds
i take a minute thinking who’s to call
before i skinny-dip in pools of blood
due to the abuse of drugs, my single brain cell’s reduced to none
i’m a useless f-ck due to the shrooms i’ve been scoffing
stillborn i flew out the womb in a coffin
to prove that i’m something i’m proving i’m nothing
a human fly glued to the wall
in this room that i’m boxed in
chewing my tongue with the tooth ’til it’s rotten
doing a bong with two and a cube[?] in the socket
unruly, obnoxious removing your offspring
and make them watch me electrocute two hundred goslings

[verse 2: king grubb]
i’m ill son, and still hear you when i’m pilled up
(but what they call you son?)
they call me king grubb
i’m ill son, and still hear you when i’m pilled up
(but what they call you son?)
they call me king grubb

truly a monster raving loony
i rock a fade and cut my favourite tuly[?]
chewing at your salad tossing mates
grubb is one deranged son of a gun
who should’ve locked the cage proper
the great grey robber
ain’t nothing you can’t sell in the loot
so trade your mic in and invest in a noose
must’ve knocked your noggin when you fell from the womb
intellectual fool your gene pool’s a rotten vegetable stew
i wish you’d sour graze by the vineyard
a shady f-ck, putting prices on rapper’s heads and not paying up
the name be grubb with a double b
emcees won’t so much as look at me playing dope when i say what’s up
maybe if i take your lungs you’ll stop wasting my oxygen
foul language is my native tongue
serrated blade to oesophagus
i’ll make you pay me a compliment then slap your face for stating the obvious

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS

Loading...