Текст песни Necro feat. Goretex and Ill Bill - One For the Butcher Knife
Necro feat. Goretex and Ill Bill - One For the Butcher Knife слова песни
[Hook]One for the butcher knife, two for the glock!(You can`t kill me, cause I`m already dead)[Necro]Peep my little friend his name is M one sixI got the butcher, knife, to cut your fuckin` heart out for kicksI`m on a killing spree, like a nigga named MansonWrite a rhyme on your grave kid, it`s where I`ll be dancin`The cha cha, you try to flex and I shot yaTen to the head, and now you`re motherfuckin` brain deadMad moonies need mad clipsI got more rubber in my glock than artificial hipsSo now you`re dead kidCause you fuckin bled kidEvery time I shot you in your motherfuckin` head kidWhen you call my suicidal hotlineI`ll tell you to blow your fuckin` brains out with a tek-9Blowin off your lips is somethin I promoteSo light up an M-80 and shove it down your fuckin` throatThe rougher, the more you suffer, I`m the messiahMy rhymes are thicker, than the afro on Richard PryerSo fuck, fuck fuck fuckIf you step to the corpse than your goin` to catch a buckYou stupid fuckCheck out the way to beat groovesThey call me horny, cause I fuck anything that movesMy fucked up rhymes are sure to offend yaSo I`ll drive over your body like the niggaz from toxic avengerRip out your brain through your noseAnd when a girl comes over I got a whole selection of dildosSo die motherfucker dieAnd don`t ask me why punks get bruised up like Soleil MoonfryI rock a house party like MolileAnd I fucked a dead corpse to techno, cause I`m a necrophileSo if you`re warm ca-ca, get with thisIf not i`ll bust out my dick, and piss in your esophagusI drank a blood donor`s depositNow Moony`s out like a fagget that just came out of the fuckin` closet[Hook]One for the butcher knife, two for the glock!(You can`t kill me, cause I`m already dead)[Goretex]Check one, two, I got clout like a morticianI got more fresh body parts than Dama`s kitchenA lime to a lemon, a lemon to a limeI rock a dead nigga skin every time I drop my rhymeThe storm troopers in death gear, that`s how it flowsNo one knows, I want your money and your clothesI stink like sex, I rob bitches welfare checksAnd I rob more cribs than Malcolm XYes it`s the butcher with more Dick than ClarkI love to bash bitches on the head in central parkPosition, sicko, infamous junkieA tek-9 connected to my spine shows I`m funkyThe fridge is filled with fresh killed body partsThe niggaz who dissed me, the bitches who broke my heartNow I`m mista murderThe dildo inserterBaptized in blood I`m the celebate converterAin`t misbehavenSick like Wes CravenI`ll open your mom`s legs, vagina`s unshavenBitin` the heads off gocks like Ozzy OsborneDead celebrities, with the Children of the CornThe butcher block glock rock scream until you dieGoretex put me in the chair till I fry[Hook]One for the butcher knife, two for the glock!(You can`t kill me, cause I`m already dead)[Ill Bill]The official distorted body parts chop-a-chops your bodyPiece by mothafuckin` pieceThen I study the anatomical breakdown of the human physiqueThe blood suckin freaks speaks then you drop the seaNeed I say more? Maybe I do these daysI be grabbin up my glock whenever me and my crewStep into a nigga pullin` the trigger in this areaTerritories all occupied by hysteriaAnd it gets scarier by the minuteCause I got niggaz screamin` just like a bitch at the abortion clinicDamned if I do, damned if I don`tI`ll fuck a pregnant bitch up her ass after I slit her throatAnd throw her body off of the roof topChop chop, then drop pieces, dead celebrities releasesThe mostess grossest, sicker than multiple cirrhosesMumbo jumbo, even your brain`s hopelessCause there`s no hope when the camouflage is comin` at ya to get yafood faced mask and two boots, the fractureYour fucking face takes my size twelveMr. Ill Bill is coming straight from hellTo fuck up a felon no turning back, my gat crackWith hollow tips my tek rips then flips my stack, a fuckin rapAfter the blood spoke I smoke anotherAfter I step up your pops I fuck your motherYeah, I`ll hit the fuckin` puss with my penisMore fractured a chump drop adidas when my meat hitsBetween, butt cheeks, titties, and cock lipsMy cock sticks grossAfter my jizm jumps that`s all she wroteCause I`m fuckin detected from the puss to my rectumEye sockets to ear drums a deviated septumPull out the glock shoot the bitch with my glockCollect my props, then Bill`s out like acid rock[Hook]One for the butcher knife, two for the glock!(You can`t kill me, cause I`m already dead)