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letra de sickological - twisted insane

[verse 1]

and i’m a n-gga that’s sick-o
jackin’ on my d-ck with the blood from the chick that i split
i am that nympho
i gotta make sure that she dead when i f-ck a n-gga b-tch
‘cos a n-gga really love that
scissor the b-tches p-ssy and put it on the blades of the k!llah
tellin’ ya where the slugs at
fallin’ up out the p-ssy with the rest of the razor blades for the k!llah
brainsick
i am the demon if you wanna keep pretendin’ i will keep runnin’ up into your home (‘fore the time go?)
and i walked up in that m-th-f-cka hanging on your wife and you daughter and your son with a blindfold
movin’ through the hall whackin’ and then starin’ from bedroom to bedroom keep peepin’ ’em
(?) (?) (?) trippin’ and just feindin’ to eat
but i know that i smell the blood of an englishman

[lots of screaming, potentially from one of twisted insane’s victims]

and have a mothaf-cka coming
suitable to get the rest of the body ready for the stomach
saw this sh-t on tv
an’ turned around and told the homie that i already have done it
already off the gin
finna be off of sin
creepin’ around the den
gettin’ faded on tha mothaf-ckin’ block
puffin’ up on a blunt
n-ggas don’t wanna stunt
pull up and get dumped
you will and everyone you know is gettin’ shot
‘cos imma be some nutcase
murder murder whatchu talkin’ ’bout
i’m ready to see whatchu was about
and homie we can touch (bases?)
and look into the eyes of the devil and you gon’ weep without a doubt
‘cos n-gga i’m a psycho
lookin’ up under the bed for bl–dy bodies in my visions
and i give a f-ck what n-ggas say about me cos a mothaf-cka’s always ready to bust slugs with precision

[chorus] x2
‘need go head and let me shoot that mothaf-cka
i just keep dumpin on ’em, boom boom boom boom boom
served you mothaf-ckas!
droppin’ like flies, 40 droppin’, cigarette droppin’, n-ggas tryna run

[verse 2]

some n-ggas want me to gas, and rap fast all the time
some n-ggas want me to slow up, so they can hear every line
but i’m a-619
south east san diego
you come up in that fine line you get your brains mixed with prego
i ain’t no b-tch -ss n-gga
i ain’t no g-y -ss phony
i ain’t you
i ain’t scared of no n-gga to come for me homie
these n-ggas rap that sh-t (k!ll n-ggas)
but they ain’t clack they sh-t
i’m official they prolly in they house with some big fat b-tch
i love when n-ggas hate
and got my name in they taste
but when i’m all in they face
this is all that they say
‘i love your sh-t i love your spit
you’s the reason i rap
i love this song i love that song’
and all of that cr-p
i don’t give a f-ck ’bout my life
so what makes you think
i give a solitary f-ck
about your wife and kids?
i wipe the blood with the bin
and take a sh-t on your face
i ain’t no mothaf-ckin’ joke
you get your life erased
n-gga

[chorus]x2

- twisted insane

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