Mr.Sinister
02-05-2013, 07:55 AM
Angel eyes analyze any artillery I author
While demonic thoughts lap my brain translating to a scorcher
Somewhat a hoarder... half the room's flowers, the others corpses
Heart of a lion, scientists' mind, lower half like a horses'
Shameful of my sins while simultaneously selling sour
Smoke combined with the layer in the air from metal showers
Liquor lingering in my liver leaving me leveled
Partake in poppin a pill ain't only rollin I'm pedaled
On a flat tire... slow extra lean, guzzle Methazine
Xanex and vicodin crushed, body's a huddled entity
And essentially if he last, well he's gonna need rehab
Contradiction, love quiet girls who on our first date bring knee pads
Standing in the rain, making sure my jeans don't bleed on my timbs
Cold blooded, the blood would freeze if something sharp meets with my skin
My food of choice is either pussy or a slice of pizza
Nice to meet ya, your face in my lap is my type of leisure
Show no respect, my eyes red and I'm blew like a Oakland set
Hope for the most but yet I'm knowing I'm so close to death
Open threats to the devil as I feel him pullin me under
Lightning cross the skies, hearing low laughter that couldn't be thunder?
While demonic thoughts lap my brain translating to a scorcher
Somewhat a hoarder... half the room's flowers, the others corpses
Heart of a lion, scientists' mind, lower half like a horses'
Shameful of my sins while simultaneously selling sour
Smoke combined with the layer in the air from metal showers
Liquor lingering in my liver leaving me leveled
Partake in poppin a pill ain't only rollin I'm pedaled
On a flat tire... slow extra lean, guzzle Methazine
Xanex and vicodin crushed, body's a huddled entity
And essentially if he last, well he's gonna need rehab
Contradiction, love quiet girls who on our first date bring knee pads
Standing in the rain, making sure my jeans don't bleed on my timbs
Cold blooded, the blood would freeze if something sharp meets with my skin
My food of choice is either pussy or a slice of pizza
Nice to meet ya, your face in my lap is my type of leisure
Show no respect, my eyes red and I'm blew like a Oakland set
Hope for the most but yet I'm knowing I'm so close to death
Open threats to the devil as I feel him pullin me under
Lightning cross the skies, hearing low laughter that couldn't be thunder?