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letra de i am pain - dna tru lyricist

[intro]
freeze!
back it up against the wall
you heard him, back it up
don’t make us put some pain on you
pain? how dare you use that word
he’s got pins in his head
what you think is pain, is only a shadow
pain has a face
allow me to show it to you, gentlemen
i am pain

[verse]
i am pain, welcome to the crying games
it’s a crying chain when i desecrate and fry you lames
in the hands of violence, the lambs are no longer silent
rip the skin from your body while i stand there smiling
to peel your cap back, then walk off with it in my backpack
while the rest of your body takes a nap inside a knapsack
nah, scratch that, that whole entire flow is basic
dinner’s ready, it’s time for you to go and taste it
now let me lay the silverware and sit the plate of faces
now say your graces, it’s time to open your mouth, be gracious
i’m grabbing the wine glass, fill it up with blood
you want a refill? go dip your cup in the tub
ask yourself, have you ever died in slow motion?
’til there’s no motion, your whole entire body frozen
i’m probably going back to the meat shack tomorrow
to see if there’s a saw and big axe that i can borrow
don’t you know that serial k!llers feel no sorrow?
we’re just sitting in our rusty buick at the car show
scoping our next victim, hoping they’re left wishing
don’t make it home safe, that’s when they catch yous in their vision
walking right at ’em, aiming a knife at ’em
they think it’s play-play until i let the knife stab ’em
let the knife stab ’em
hit ’em with that lullaby goodnight action, b-tch, what’s happening?
i got a itch for wrapping dead bodies in cellophane
you tryna come hard on the mic, but you h-lla lame
and it’s a h-lla shame you had to witness my fictitious night-time death wishes that i’m granting on these breathless b-tches
who’s next to get this? which b-tch thinks she can fit this fist in?
her thin skin without ribbing her membranes, no? don’t be so pessimistic
you wanna test the statistics? thinking i ain’t blessed enough to wreck you b-tches?
i’m bringing the extra sickness
i made sickbed, i made six feds switch heads and left the human centipede scientist with six legs
you’re six levels below h-ll in a cold cell
with no cellphone to call for help, eating human tuna patty melts
with a tomato on top, i’m a tornado that rocks through your neighborhood playground
flipping greyhounds, leaving people’s face bound
get out of my face now or get put face down with an eight-pound blade found
shoved down between your shoulder blades precisely without making that scr-pe sound
[outro]
no longer will we have to seep into your world like pests through cracks in the bas-m-nts
once and for all, we will open the gates
lay low the ramparts
no more games

- dna tru lyricist

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