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letra de raise the devil - insane poetry

[intro: cyco & the joker (jack nicholson)]
tell me something, my friend. you ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?
uh, uh
yeah, yeah
raise the motherf-cking devil (f-cking devil)
uh, uh
yeah, yeah
it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee (smell the coffee)
as i drop the sh-t like this (as i drop the sh-t like this)

[verse 1: cyco]
welcome to the lair of the beast
how can you trust a priest when he’s corrupt like the police? (police)
yo, planet earth is now planet h-ll
and every soul that’s walking is d-mned by a crooked man (crooked man)
that’s why i call myself cyco
if i wasn’t rapping i’d be carrying an ak assault rifle
and straight picking off crooked cops
and while i’m on the subject, let’s go into depth and take a look at cops (look at cops)
the cities biggest gang glorified on a television show
and what they show is straight bullsh-t, yo (bullsh-t, yo)
’cause what i know, in upper-class neighborhoods they just roll up
to winch-ll’s donuts to grab donuts, sh-t (donuts, sh-t)
but in the hood they just patrol
straight gapping up n-ggas, putting they ass in f-cked up chokeholds
and they’ll leave a n-gga crippled
they’re just a badge and a [lilac?] letter of the alphabet tripled (kkk)
this sh-t is f-cked to where a n-gga must leave
that’s why we’re out shooting cops, call it pig blood blues (blues)
here is the news, i just laid the civil
dig their graves, ’cause you just raised the devil
[chorus 1: teleprompter & cyco]
the possession of ones mind by the devil
uh (uh)
the possession of ones mind by the devil (devil), uh (uh)
yeah
the possession of ones mind by the devil (by the devil)
uh
the possession of ones mind by the devil (ones mind by the devil, by the devil, by the devil, by the devil, by the devil)
yeah

[verse 2: cyco]
am i the antichrist, or am i anti-right?
leaving ya catatonic, they say my rhymes are demonic
my murderous rhymes i keep polishing
you know the overall effect is astonishing (astonishing)
black ouija board k!ller from the streets of los angeles
my mind is like a pentagram with candles lit (candles lit)
i ain’t sugarcoating sh-t
i see you’ll have to get out or else you’re dead meat in the slaughterhouse (slaughterhouse)
’cause last night i heard a blast
saw a n-gga flee from the scene with a nine and a murder mask
and one time took her time as the n-ggas body shook in the puddle of blood from the bullet slug (bullet slug)
and all i see is n-ggas k!lling n-ggas over rims and cars, money, drugs and stupid b-tches (and stupid b-tches)
and f-cking up at a movie theater one weekend on the eve of a rodney king beating (of a rodney king beating)
i’m seeing redrum when i ride
n-ggas being eighty-sixed, call it genocide (genocide)
and i’m living in it
since they know n-ggas k!lling each other so the system don’t give a sh-t
so i can’t really blame a n-gga for tryna get his hustle on by putting a chrome to a fools dome (fools dome)
’cause i can’t see myself going to college to get a ph.d. and wind up working at mickey ds (mickey ds)
so i might squeeze a light sucker
take a nine and start jacking white motherf-ckers
but see i know my consequences, i’ll get gaveled up in a second
thrown in a motherf-cking holding cell b-tt-neked (b-tt-neked)
and waiting for the outcome
the verdict’s guilty, you know this n-gga got hung (got hung)
and this is the land of opportunity
but what i know is that a big d-ck is scr-w-ng me
this is for the n-ggas making n-ggas taste the metal
wake the f-ck up, ’cause you’re raising the devil
[chorus 2: father lankester merrin & cyco]
may the power of christ compel you
uh (uh)
may the power of christ compel you
yeah, (yeah) uh (uh)
may the power of christ
uh (uh, uh)

[outro: cyco]
everybody better wake the f-ck up. this is 1992. sh-t ain’t getting no better. we all raising the motherf-cking devil. insane poetry is definitely in this motherf-cker bringing you the grim reality. you better step north, step south, step east or west. no matter where you step, you better watch your motherf-cking back. do the sh-t that’s right. and i’m outtie on a five-thousand tip

- insane poetry

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