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letra de spiritual harassment - goretex

richard kuklinski & atf agent dominick polifrone intro:

i got a few problems i wanna dispose by havin’ the branch i wanna get rid of, yeah…
only f-ckin’ thing i don’t understand, don’t you use a f-ckin’ piece of iron to get rid of these f-ckin’ people, you use this f-ckin’ uhh cyanide?
why be messy? you do it nice and calm…

verse 1: gore elohim:

the hood don’t offer you banks, only bags of sulphur
range rovers with roof racks so the body’s holdin’
this rap sh-t is like poppy flowers and coka fills
any deal we hustle from stolen goods to frozenville
old pana got b-tches home from bills to smoke
my projects likе serial will slit your throat
no options, all my fiends resеmble kate gosselin
if they got a hot dose it had to be impostors
penny plaster for oxys, rockin’ role doctors
project monsters, washington heights to sri lanka
k!ller with a toolbox, you layin’ low like 2pac
i’m up in new spots, earn my stripes like tube socks
verse 2: tragedy khadafi:

mistrials and fouls in queensbridge houses
women, i arouse them my crown just astoundin’
real status, attitude humble but i stay grounded
built with the black sopranos, pushin’ lambos
understand my thirst for power as far as my hand goes
round table discussions, n-ggas is stuntin’
back down when them 4 wheels is comin’, because we gunnin’ life
black panther parties benz 60s swervin’ 850s
numerous plots on my life, they all miss me (yeah)
ties is sicily, hannibal conquer that
i move where the streets be, and all my k!llers see
macky move like the euro stack currency
hip hop forgive me not, embed me in your brain
sacrificed everything to give you what i aim
yellow skylow aristocrats and diplomats
prophetic lives feed my hood rat, is all that

verse 3: gore elohim:

i like thick mommies like j-lo’s fupa
gore hinckley, jimmy the jet, pass me the lou duva
dirty harry tanned suitcase, to all the more is st-rdy
b-tches thirsty like barracudas that try to burn me
scared money is fear, i break it down like mucus
you in the back of a bl–dy super jacked up your shoes fifths
felony footwear, b-tches ain’t sh-t, just a bleedin’ mood
ceremony nights to enforced through your freezing moon
autopsy theater maids so the coffin fits
a kid raises a altar so up the torcher sits
they keep plannin’ my wake, but i was born to win
f-ck on the corner will book a flight and be out in 10

- goretex

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