CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Gruesome Twosome Freestyle
Grimy thug sh*t
The f**k you up sh*t...
For all the peeps in the crud with morphine in their blood
Peep me, reach inside my movie - pull a scene from the mud
Son, you dreaming you're thug, we'll hit your team with the scud
Missile, this'll f**k your pistol - laser beam in your jug
You're f**kin' with the wrong crew, son, our demons will haunt you
Psycho+Logical cats'll blow a shot through your caps
Known for rockin' an axe, a [?] lent you a sledge
We decapitate heads and hide 'em under our beds
Instead of shootin' Glocks, put to use my toolbox
Pick up Phillips screw drivers
Stick and drillin' through visors
Hit like Brock Marion, you more like Maid Marian
Best use your brain savvy vs a cat that's blade-carryin'
The grimiest thugs; we'll rob the lint out your pants
Then won't deny to draw blood and leave your limbs in a cast
And if you keep testin' me you'll meet the recipe of treachery
Greeted by the Reaper, seek your bleed-destiny
The belligerent Brooklyn-born and bred, thugged-out sicko
With hatred for life ambitious for change and pistols
Death Rap ambassador, the master of duckets
I'll fulfill my goals, even if I must kill - f**k it
Brutal 'til the day that I die
A representative of imperative heritage in hip hop forever lives in Me through the concrete streets where ex-cons meet
Is where I grew up, you can't it away from me
Not much matters if blowin' up ain't part of it
I started out doing it for the art of it
Now I'm tryin' to get my part of it: piece of it
There's enough of it to go around without changin' our sh*t
We could keep it sick
Necro - the general of morbid;
Monarch of macabre metaphors, just meditate and absorb it
The medicine that keeps me alive - my fan base
Goin' through withdraw for heroin cause they can't wait
The f**k you up sh*t...
For all the peeps in the crud with morphine in their blood
Peep me, reach inside my movie - pull a scene from the mud
Son, you dreaming you're thug, we'll hit your team with the scud
Missile, this'll f**k your pistol - laser beam in your jug
You're f**kin' with the wrong crew, son, our demons will haunt you
Psycho+Logical cats'll blow a shot through your caps
Known for rockin' an axe, a [?] lent you a sledge
We decapitate heads and hide 'em under our beds
Instead of shootin' Glocks, put to use my toolbox
Pick up Phillips screw drivers
Stick and drillin' through visors
Hit like Brock Marion, you more like Maid Marian
Best use your brain savvy vs a cat that's blade-carryin'
The grimiest thugs; we'll rob the lint out your pants
Then won't deny to draw blood and leave your limbs in a cast
And if you keep testin' me you'll meet the recipe of treachery
Greeted by the Reaper, seek your bleed-destiny
The belligerent Brooklyn-born and bred, thugged-out sicko
With hatred for life ambitious for change and pistols
Death Rap ambassador, the master of duckets
I'll fulfill my goals, even if I must kill - f**k it
Brutal 'til the day that I die
A representative of imperative heritage in hip hop forever lives in Me through the concrete streets where ex-cons meet
Is where I grew up, you can't it away from me
Not much matters if blowin' up ain't part of it
I started out doing it for the art of it
Now I'm tryin' to get my part of it: piece of it
There's enough of it to go around without changin' our sh*t
We could keep it sick
Necro - the general of morbid;
Monarch of macabre metaphors, just meditate and absorb it
The medicine that keeps me alive - my fan base
Goin' through withdraw for heroin cause they can't wait
