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your mother - cult of the damned lyrics

[chorus: lee scott]
ay yo, your mother’s got leather t–th and rocks nasal dreads
your mother’s got webbed feet and a dorsal fin

[verse 1: king grubb]
what? you didn’t fit the bill
sink or sink, your styles watered down
wet behind the ears that hide your fishes gills
a million kids brought your sh-t, but less then six of which admit to it
your one fan is a b-tch with a temper
musics an innocent school girls guilty pleasure
define living legend, i’ll shut you the f-ck up and call it divine intervention
instinctively sparking spliffs
my idea of fun doesn’t end with skunk but it starts with it
flash the man of the year probably, hand strangles bottle
you’re not fresh, your concept albums a romantic novel
throttle security, slap the suit dispensing water
get head from your secretary daughter and bounce
the a&r office, amputated arm on the way there
the game ain’t fair
employing amateurs, your whole sh-ts whack from errand boys to managers
your yes men agree with me, e for effort child
you blame your whackness on peer pressure
styles in dire need of reinvention
sh-t for brains, (?)
lookin’ like you’re tryna tell me somethin’ with your lips st-tched hemmed and b-ttoned
i end discussions before you get to spend a a twopence
a friend of nothin’ and no one
who’s the illest mirror mirror i’m cuttin’ my c0ke on?
who’s the illest mirror mirror i’m cuttin’ my c0ke on?

[chorus]

[verse 2: bill shakes]
tug of war on a reefer
blunts are over a meter in length
smell of reak of the stench, me in the flesh
king of trash leaps on a bench
flaws needing repair, hand you a valid reason to stare
speaking in slurs
your bird’s lying saying she’s spending the weekends at work
drink a leter of t-rds to quench my thirst
dreaming of perps always, sweating it won’t get blazed never
slaughter cash cows and make cheddar, take measures
f-ck summer, rain’s better
time to get a wash
bundie don’t need a weapon, got two eczama of heads and skulls
got me bare hand wrestling cops
fifty point comedy eye port
always wanna be high
i’ll half heartedly die with rotton insides
drug abuser, bunk in sewers
i’ll f-ck the twos up, and slap up mary jane for not coming sooner
i’ll hibernate when the weather is sunny
my bed is a mudheap, i’m proud to live increadibly scruffy
anything junky, drugs tested, i’m bonded
bill’s a peasent, a drunkard
i’m destand for nothing

[chorus]

[verse 3: monster under the bed/milkavelli]
move!
vacate the room
my crew blaze that blue (?) pepe le pew
who the h-ll catch the stale buddah smell?
when i’m in the house with a spliff in my mouth
you can tell its the m.o. stella or (?)
you wanna hang with the d-mned than walk the gallows
brick brick peli funk to make your head combust
stictly blunted terms, i puff the herb
and i’m stressin’ out cause getting skunk is unconfirmed
got my fingers in a dirty pie up her skirt
work to myself and i
f-ck working 10 to 5, i perfer getting nice, you know the kid
whats the crack jack?
no, monster’s tryna pack that hot blunt down, and smoke that sh-t
but now, i must proceed to ole e-in’
and hit that blunt ’til my lungs both scream and shout
if you see me in your front door, hit the floor
quick if my weed’s run out get me some more

[outro]

- cult of the damned lyrics

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