Judge Cryptic - Horrorshow (Feat Goretex Of Non-Phixion)

Описание: Judge Cryptic - Horrorshow (Feat Goretex Of Non-Phixion)

Album: A Dark Thought (2006)

Prob By: Judge Cryptic

Recorded At: Judge Cryptic Studios

Lyrics

Verse 1: Gore Elohim:

Last days so we blaze powder, I'm sprayin' rounds up
Laser weapons in brown trucks imported from Canada
2010 return of Tuddy, peace to Gerbs
Swervin' with the birds of Hoodie, this world's crooked like Boogies
Canarsie veterans handle jux like Prosecco
Alien web get dealt like Pacino in Serpico
Masons they rape the virgin in clothes, circle expose
Worshippin' tablets, my panic room is attitude with a toast!
Hazel shoppers, sneakin' through projects
Watchin' me, I'm disbalanced from my hearse in the Congress
All my Goons be holdin' TECs to burn wet (Fuck the pigs!)
I'm out in the sticks, the murderers we burn churches, never left!
You all hate us, faggot I was destined to rep
Medicine trips, 'til you dealin' in the back o' ya neck!
Like the Manson Chicks that like to cut the smoke with X
DNA test, deep in a 4-Tex serve 'em the four sets!




Scratches:

Cryptic and Gore headin' to a horrorshow!
Make 'em suffocate!
My words bust this outta the speakers then causes ha-and causes havoc
Yeah Cryptic and Gore headin' to a horrorshow!
Worldwide assassination, plastination!
Worldwide assasstination!
Kid it's sick! Yeah!


Verse 2: Judge Cryptic:

Bugged as fuck, cameras and mechanical animals
Being watched with venge in the back of the capital
Chapels get panelled, burn victims' protection
Sold like pedophiles, in a termite correction
Countin' the days, to return for the plunge
Mass cremation, humans being burned by the Sun
Sick games of the mad, fat Mercury flows
Seven tongues and symbols of pain, terminally doomed!
Tangled and wired, futuristic torture
War Pigs, gifted with the bliss of slaughter
Morbid, cats tend meat to lamb chow
Drink the fluid from a pregnant woman 'til they pass out
Serious gore, bloody mess in the glove box
Have your lacerated face splattered on yo' drug spot
Rock the central [?], like I'm embalming the corpse
Secret cathedral, your coffin on top of the porch
Locked in a boiler room, paranoid of the outside
Hold grudges like scorpios, destroyin' a housewife
FBI agents have set up the wires
Carriers in the cemetery, they want me dead in the fire
Devour and rage, of a fire open void?
You're gonna need the jaws of life, to take you off the rope and noose
Judge treadin' the hearse, insane and postal
With flies in tombs, means the human waste disposal