Judge Cryptic - Horrorshow (Feat Goretex Of Non-Phixion) скачать в хорошем качестве

Judge Cryptic - Horrorshow (Feat Goretex Of Non-Phixion)

Judge Cryptic - Horrorshow (Feat Goretex Of Non-Phixion) Album: A Dark Thought (2006) Prob By: Judge Cryptic Recorded At: Judge Cryptic Studios Lyrics Verse 1: Gore Elohim: Last days so we blaze powder, I'm sprayin' rounds up Laser weapons in brown trucks imported from Canada 2010 return of Tuddy, peace to Gerbs Swervin' with the birds of Hoodie, this world's crooked like Boogies Canarsie veterans handle jux like Prosecco Alien web get dealt like Pacino in Serpico Masons they rape the virgin in clothes, circle expose Worshippin' tablets, my panic room is attitude with a toast! Hazel shoppers, sneakin' through projects Watchin' me, I'm disbalanced from my hearse in the Congress All my Goons be holdin' TECs to burn wet (Fuck the pigs!) I'm out in the sticks, the murderers we burn churches, never left! You all hate us, faggot I was destined to rep Medicine trips, 'til you dealin' in the back o' ya neck! Like the Manson Chicks that like to cut the smoke with X DNA test, deep in a 4-Tex serve 'em the four sets! Scratches: Cryptic and Gore headin' to a horrorshow! Make 'em suffocate! My words bust this outta the speakers then causes ha-and causes havoc Yeah Cryptic and Gore headin' to a horrorshow! Worldwide assassination, plastination! Worldwide assasstination! Kid it's sick! Yeah! Verse 2: Judge Cryptic: Bugged as fuck, cameras and mechanical animals Being watched with venge in the back of the capital Chapels get panelled, burn victims' protection Sold like pedophiles, in a termite correction Countin' the days, to return for the plunge Mass cremation, humans being burned by the Sun Sick games of the mad, fat Mercury flows Seven tongues and symbols of pain, terminally doomed! Tangled and wired, futuristic torture War Pigs, gifted with the bliss of slaughter Morbid, cats tend meat to lamb chow Drink the fluid from a pregnant woman 'til they pass out Serious gore, bloody mess in the glove box Have your lacerated face splattered on yo' drug spot Rock the central [?], like I'm embalming the corpse Secret cathedral, your coffin on top of the porch Locked in a boiler room, paranoid of the outside Hold grudges like scorpios, destroyin' a housewife FBI agents have set up the wires Carriers in the cemetery, they want me dead in the fire Devour and rage, of a fire open void? You're gonna need the jaws of life, to take you off the rope and noose Judge treadin' the hearse, insane and postal With flies in tombs, means the human waste disposal