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letra de hellathon - jam baxter

[jam baxter]
i rushed in on the ground floor
swinging my south paw
thought i’d escaped from the criminals outdoors
swore i was safe when a sinister sound caused
my ears to bleed in a militant downpour
and as they p-ssed hundreds of litres of blood
i nearly slipped up from the speed of the flood
when a demon encrusted with leeches and pus
starts screaming and beating my feet into mush
quick tings i rip my t–th from my gums
just to stab to him in his creature-ous features and run
but my feet have become ‘nuff burnt and infected
septic and spurting with curdling red sh-t
grabbing loose flesh and some dirty intestines
i fashion new legs started searching for exits
turned to the left when the worms i’d ingested
dispersed from my neck where my sternum connected
they were like [aaaaghhh]
and i was like f-ck
dussin’ up to the first floor clutching my guts
banging at the door sat there rusted and shut
but i spat a raw bar and it crumbled to dust
the whole room was strange and it stunk of the musk
of some old tuna steak plus fungus and l-st
heard a thundering crunch, chundered my lunch in disgust

what the f-ck is that?
what the f-ck is that?!
f-ck…that is b-tters…

it’s every girl i’ve ever banged in the world and never rang
all forced in a monster of dirty messy fl-ng-
so i bun eleven grams of some dirty smelly ganj
tryna fumigate the room but that weren’t a heavy plan
cos i’m lean now, boss i’m wax on wax off
plugged up the gash with some tampons dashed off
whipped out my brick and dialed 999
but the voice on the line screamed ‘die die die!’
i thought, rah i’ll ring ronnie
and if he’s still alive, tell him
bring a kitchen knife and then swing for his frigging life
but i couldn’t speak with my toothless mouth it’s like…

[ronnie bosh]
whagwan you stupid clown?
look i’m tryna dig this groupie out
what the f-ck you hoovered down?

[jam baxter]
man i was trying to explain all the f-ckery before
all that came out was [mumble]
but suddenly he paused, like…

[ronnie bosh]
bruv, there’s someone at the door
it better be that sc-mmy motherf-cker with my draw
or i’m bussin’ up his jaw, no long
huh, i’m gonna get the door, hold on

[jam baxter]
ruhhh, they got to him too
f-ck it i’ll get over it, hieronymus who?
i got boppin’ to do, through this ominous goo
stuck my guts back in with a bottle of glue
i gotta boom, straight duss to the second floor
met by a sweaty severed head by a metal door
retching with seven doors slobbering slush
vomiting bugs and slop from ac-minous slugs
and if that wasn’t enough, swaying from the ceiling
were forty-four corpses dripping and congealing
pickling and bleeding, reach for my spine
ripped at the leeches and beetles and flies
as the insects ran back to the nest
bun rounds saw ron bosh back from the dead
but the man was possessed on some dracula flex
with his face hanging off and mad scabs on his flesh
got an axe to my neck and there’s crabs in my crepes
and a rancid tarantula clamped to my chest
i tried to black but collapsed as he said…

f-ck you jam baxter you’re dead!!!

- jam baxter

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