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Poison Penmanship
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Rhyme Asylum
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Christopher Walken as Gabriel from The Prophecy: “I’m an angel, I kill firstborns while their mamas watch. I turn cities into salt. I even, when I feel like it…rip the souls from little girls. And from now ’til kingdom come, the only thing you can count on in your existence is never understanding why.” [Possessed] Thief in the night, fangs in your jugular bleeding you dry I live in a glass house throwing meteorites Appeased the gods in a previous life And I’ll slice the throat of Sweeney Todd for my piece of the pie I’m the angel of death Outpacing Olympic swimmers with the Titanic’s anchors chained to my legs All without breakin’ a sweat From the underground and I’m cravin’ the taste of your flesh like the Day of the Dead Here for gainin’ respect, enforce the laws of gravity And draw the sword of Damocles to the nape of your neck Communist Marxist, sharpshooter locked on my target I was breastfed cancer and bottles of arsenic Blind swordsman, wander in darkness f*ck cash, I’ll drop the Queen’s severed head in the offering basket I’m eating out of coffins and caskets And everyone in my field of vision’s just crops for the harvest I’m a hell-born seraphim, four faces with torn feathered wings Spawning four deformed Nephilim Burying piece pipes, diggin’ up the hatchet Deepthroat my dick ’til it singes in your stomach acid We’re unattractive, ferocious creatures I’ve got master-degree burns after a heatstroke of genius Rush the doors from dusk ’til dawn My entourage plot on top of Scotland Yard ’cause we above the law Withstand the force of a juggernaut We’re the recipe for disaster and this beat’s cookin’ up a storm All powerful being, during hours of sleeping I levitate between the ground and the ceiling Advanced life forms found in my semen Haven’t started to rap yet, this is just the sound of my breathing A mental plane like Enola Gay I’m slashing open throats of backstabbers with my shoulder blade Step off the planet, it would float away Tormented by growing pains of my ever-evolving brain I sever ties with Heaven’s skies And wage war that makes Armageddon resemble a training exercise Third eye blessed with second sight, a Cenobite I survived the New Mexico desert testing sites If I do start to smoke weed, I’ll take two tokes and won’t breathe After a whole week and OD Battling me, you won’t get cold feet The mere thought of facing Possessed’ll freeze the fluid in both knees Product of a warlock and a witch, knock you for six Piledrive you down a bottomless pit Push my luck over the top of a cliff I don’t bite the hand that feeds me, I chew it off at the wrist I’ll forge a sword from a thunderbolt And I’m rubbing salt into bullet wounds just to make the slug dissolve
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