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letra de videotapes - goretex

[verse 1: jak tripper]
yo, i’m on harbor like lovecraft and dunwich
sp-ced out like duddits
lacing blunts at the commune dusted
abuse of prescription pills wrenching my stomach
agoraphobic stuck in my house like walter hudson
dump paint buckets, slumped over huffin
eyes sunken like two black holes are punched in
i don’t rock converse cause i ‘m an emo punk, i’m f-cking grunge b-tch
grunge is dead
pull out my devil worship and suck it
f-cking usa supercoven
a pig vomit, stuffed in sheep guts like haggis, horseback, and donkey dung buzzes

[verse 2: gore elohim]
the 50 cal muzzle loader watch you slumped over
we cut v-lv-s, ceremonies, exotic sofas
weekends we on speedboats
i’m in the hood, caked up, girls’ hair covered my f-cking peacoat
surgery smoke
we worship satan and c-notes
tex watson and 60 embedded cult primo
expectant mothers always need tokes, buick regals
luminous evil i sell bad dope to good people
black impiety
goats line the cathedral
rap ecologist, astrology pure evil, the regal beagle
demented retribution, jak tripper rock the desi
and take a part of your face off like drunk chevies
i never had a license, legally it ain’t a felony
i crush the elderly under tires, they’re f-ckin’ watermelons

[verse 3: jak tripper]
everybody grab a head on a stick, let’s build a shrine
i k!ll kids with wayne williams asphyxiation stimuli
college is missing five
p-ssenger seat missing fit for dimes
picked up nine
dumped in a pit defined
we visited different sites
sticks and leaves lifted dig up hides
intercourse forbidden he thought, moving the earwigs aside
did it swatting flies in a van, sipping
codeine-smoking trip sniffing white
bundles of black sherm
k!ll the youth from tv reigns gun all the trackers
i clip c a lots hit the communes soaking spice and muscle relaxers

[verse 4: gore elohim]
it’s the pagan with shady traits
k!ller with amazing grace
have to return some videotapes, it closes at eight
manson wig beard sl!cked back
caked blood on my t–th
old cherokee with the ski rack
raquel welch clones tickle grundles for g packs
home invasions, i rock a three-piece suit
my d-ck gets hard from blood bubbles and brain stew
the taste of cadavers is similar to fondue
peter fonda meets fenriz, homie, that’s gore too
prefer my violence vivid my victims are timid
even taylor momson’s standing up for kathy lee gifford
found a new bathtub, bringin’ your body to bed-stuy
i’m in the jungle, looking for death like left eye
hit your family for ten-five
any shots suzuki sidekicks watching disorderlies
blowing b-tches on sybians
f-cking yiddish mommies and portuguese
they call me plague boss
you’ll die in shame like the son of madoff
liquefy your face off like chicken fried steak sauce
i lost faith in god so i walk the left path
crisis-sh-t, cash from raving fiends who sniff gl-ss

- goretex

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