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letra de where the gods are - dead poet devil

yo i’m a luciferian slash illusive aryan
doin body shots on b-tches like abusive married men
i remember when an ounce of dope used to carry ten
now conspiracy laws got my dogs buried in a pen
yo rottweilers bark when you intruding on my premisis
d.c. sniper when i’m shootin at my nemesis
o dog and kane all my dudes are just menaces
dead or in a box doin a bunch of life sentences
trill spit my heart black and don’t feel sh-t
yo lifes a b-tch but that’s the tramp that i’m still wit
real sh-t flyin out the trap that i spill wit
slurrin from the syrup that this white cup filled wit
the sh-t i’m sippin keep my patience very slim
i’m bl–dy marry scary homie satan’s very grim
and my whole life’s a gamble dog i shoot dice daily
and everything i do is crooked cause my two eyes lazy
i’d rather go to the place where the gods are
than to get cuffed and placed in this squad car
i’d rather burn in the fires down in h-ll
than to have to spend another f-ckin night inside a cell
[x2]

ayo i got a bunch of notebooks full of half finished songs
distracted by all these b-tches poppin they asses and thongs
snortin up all this powder packing hashish in bongs
and having unprotected s-x with the trashiest blondes
dog town locko, i mob round solo
dressed in ben davis like a god d-mn cholo
toss a nickel on my digi fore i weigh my t’s
dope boy you want a zone you got to pay my fees
yo b-tches in the club carry fake ids
have ya ass locked down inside them 8 by 3s
yo some of them even carry h-i-vs
roll the dice no tellin what the snake eyes sees yo
h-ll is hot homes the fires like lava
and sellin dope is hard cause your buyers might rob ya
but before i’m locked down eatin beans and rice dinners
i’d rather die up on the cross that gave jesus christ splinters

i’d rather go to the place where the gods are
than to get cuffed and placed in this squad car
i’d rather burn in the fires down in h-ll
than to have to spend another f-ckin night inside a cell
[x2]
ayo be careful of these rats cause these rats have rabies
rats have s-x and then rats have babies
babies grow up and start rattin on their own
help the feds build cases wire tappin on your phone
the swat kick your door got warrants for your arrest
with a bunch of f-ckin laser beams pointed at your chest
they bring in the dogs to find the work and the guns
you’re hit and i ain’t talkin stickin purp in your lungs
armed career criminal your points is off the scale
a million cash only judge appointed is your bail
your co-defendant solid yall was boys when you fell
now we testify at trial and need points when he tell
yo 15 flat that’s the mandatory minimum
your co-defendant walked from all the rap that he been given em
jumpsuit shackled handcuffed with a black box
yo that’s what happens when i mother f-ckin rat talks

- dead poet devil

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