My God is dead.
your misleading false image {Chorus 5X} Word is bond, bond is life You shall be willing to give your life Before your words shall fail All those who
look them dead in the eye, then waste em And the dark shall emerge from the fiery depths of hell And swallow the shell of the hollow who dwell And the shadows of all who
time Your tears are falling on the ground. The Squonk is of a very retiring disposition and due to its ugliness, weeps constantly. It is easy prey for hunters who
Al Scratch "Where my Homies?" Leave it to y'all, these niggas left for dead Last week my man swore he saw Special Ed Rap is like a ghost town, real
cards Spent the weekend, already miss New York and it's odd cause I'm the first to say it got too many hustlers who rob I never hang out, when we do we
read Nekron?s manuscripts power, blood and luxury attracted some of them who denied the gift of light, sealed their bloody faith to... Hell, Kron and his son
Niggaz is careless, slippin up, switchin up Teams crossin over, they gettin stuck for they +C.R.E.A.M+ Frontin like the skills, is superb and got the
faggot niggaz leakin' When I cock back the iron, niggaz is dyin', marchin' to Zion 'Cause the pound-cake, roars like a lion Word son, niggaz be collapsin', 'cause my weapons is
layin' dead 'cause he came for me Yo it?s a body in the trunk son So what?s it gonna be A nigga layin' dead 'cause he came for me Yo son I shot him
she'll be dead soon drug her to the muthafuckin bedroom handcuffed her then I turned the music down Knock Knock Knock then I heard a pound! who is it
like that) Aiyo, this is all for my metro card one dollar cab niggaz Niggaz who walk here and all the ladies Who stood on line in the rain with the bouncers Who
Noise Frapertate On The End Of The Gun My Boys Givn Paper Just As Quick As It Komes And if your stadin in the way a mama missin her son I Remember Back
, look 'em dead in the eye, then waste 'em And the dark shall emerge from the fiery depths of hell And swallow the shallow, the hallow who dwell In the shadows of all who
every night And 'Let there be light' was understood, when a mic-stand Descended from up-and-above into the hood and if my face Is worth a thousand words
the weekend, already miss New York and it's odd 'Cause I'm the first to say it got too many hustlers who rob I never hang out, when we do we bust the
for fruit that labor does not bring. This is all for you my dear cynical son, the man who lit the match that burnt the whole world down. Farewell, to that basement noise
appeals And dismissals got you thundering, can't help but wondering The club scene, a hundred books of acid and who's on exstacy Who sniffs shit and who
