those who never have wept. It's strange these things that we're told. Live fast and never grow old. Live fast and die in your shoes the devil, the devil
fools Is what she loves Granted with powers, gifted with magic Watching the world through raven eyes Damned woman mischievous whore Heretic princess Devil
There goes the neighbourhood nigga with the third album How come he don't fall off? Rolling with the sawed-off gauge Turn the page of the chapter, caught up in the rapture
fell from grace we became Nephelims Now we regulate everythin' from here to a wide spectrum G/Ciples, baggy jeans but the gun's pressin' Devils let the
something I think you should know I'll be dancing on your grave In a world that advocates All this blood on my hands Swear that I got the devil riding
carry a glock Only hot rocks I'm hot, so give up the props My style is HUMMIN CUMMIN ATCHA, duck or get backed up Dispatcher: 'Red, get freaky to the rapture
block, cause I carry a glock Only hot rocks I'm hot, so give up the props My style is HUMMIN CUMMIN ATCHA, duck or get backed up Dispatcher: 'Red, get freaky to the rapture
that's dead you might as well run into the wall and bang your head I'm pushin' force, my force your doubtin' I'm makin' devils cower to the Caucus Mountains
the train He pulled his gun and aimed and started firing like the son of Kane I saw civilians runnin' for their life Like the devil on judgement night
carry a glock Only hot rocks I'm hot, so give up the props My style is HUMMIN CUMMIN ATCHA, duck or get backed up Dispatcher 'Red, get freaky to the rapture
That guides mankind beyond all hopes of rebirth Tear further into violence And send forth the blade that slaughter each cell Stillbirth redemption Sterility dances to the rapturous
Nigga with the third album, how come he don't fall off? Rollin' with the sawed-off gauge Turn the page of the chapter, caught up in the rapture But
said, "Fear of a Black Planet" I know a certain race that couldn't understand it To see a black man clocking fat grands To a grafted devil, it's hard
style is nasty like protruding bone fractures And your a played out dirty pussy devil Like Margaret Datcher But technique never get captured inside the rapture
silhouettes of velvet against the crimson of passion We can almost hear the echoes from the smoldering meadow It's the rapture of the angels and the rage of the devil
