if rhymes could kill - insane poetry lyrics
[verse 1: cyco & em’dee]
if rhymes could k!ll
if rhymes could k!ll
if rhymes could k!ll
if rhymes could k!ll they’d have this n*gga strapped in a straightjacket
’cause my lyrics chop like a chrome*plated hatchet
got the death sentence, your repentance i’ll never seek
better treat this n*gga with respect or be severed meat
’cause i’ll be on yo ass so quick you can’t take a breather
so just smile and say h*llo to my meat cleavеr
see you later’s what i said as his eyes got biggеr
five seconds later that n*gga knew he was gonna be chopped liver (ugh)
if rhymes could k!ll i’d be up for murder
mister cyco caught for cooking human hamburgers
this album’s called grim reality
tell me have you seen a man cut from his nuts to his trash cavity (yeah)
i’m frightening rappers with the lyrics i wrote
turn up the god d*mn heat, i’m making a human roast
terror raps, you know i love
watching rappers simmer in the juices of my bathtub of ghost blood
eyes shutting up, love k!lling
ever since i was an infant i feel i was born to k!ll
so bring a high priest, pastor or a reverend
it doesn’t matter ’cause they all going, except for heaven
to my arch of your terror, dare to scare a sucker
with the cuts my sinner lords prayer every verse
my blood boils with vigorous heat
eyes get bloodshot
evils open up when i’m loccing up
[chorus: cyco & em’dee]
it’s the cyco once again, kicking that dumb stuff
don’t try stepping ’cause you’ll get that f*cking throat cut
angel of death, bringing death, i’m a locc neck
enter the clique, if you slip you get smoked sl*t
manic depressive, keep a smith & wesson loaded hops
psychotic lunatic, loving to go out shooting cops
not f*cking around, taking ’em down with my gang of slugs
i kept on jumping and watching ’em pumping up on gang or blood
now back to the subject, don’t tryna run up on a psycho g
i got em’dee, d.j. streek, and the nightbreed
insane poetry is swinging a hatchet like true slayers
as midnight strikes motherf*cker say your prayers
[verse 2: cyco & em’dee]
i’m rapping this, i’m a hatchetest on the loose
wringing the necks of rappers like i’m wringing the neck of a goose
oopsie daisy and speaking of daisies, suckers are pushing up daisies ’cause the cyco is crazier than a motherf*cker
trades back, no f*ck that man, cyco’s a puppet master
worse than jokers, when you’re stuck i cut much faster
as blood squirting out of a hundred holes
i’m taking the skulls of weak rappers, breaking ’em off like cheap crackers
i said i was psycho so they stuck me inside a psychiatric ward for singing a sword
many bodies straight forward into the morgue
the shadow warlord, but the ouija board k!ller came
out of the dark, carrying a hatchet, dragging a chain
spilling brains with the nine, this psycho’s your executioner
dropping lyrics so serial, figure anger who’s with lucifer punk
i’m k!lling my wicked psyche
since rhymes could k!ll, sh*t, i gotta go, i got graves to d*ck
[outro: cyco]
sh*t, come on man
get this motherf*cking body own there, right there
i got it
sh*t, i got this leg, i got this arm
hahahahaha
this motherf*cker ain’t over here
i got him
aye, sh*t
dig that motherf*ckers grave man
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