bobby burns - live from the crypt (nightmare) - 3916795 lyrics
comin from the crypt wrapped up like a mummy
two b-tches with they wrists slit layin cross the tummy
three pictures of ya dad’s d-ck and a stack of money
four midgets on a pogo stick sippin gin and rummy
five [?] sick from the firing squad
six d-ck suckers succin’ d-ck moanin’ “oh god”
seven like eleven s-m-n it got a tight wad
eight [?] sh-t i’m a d-mn fraud
welcome to the motherf-ckin mind of a rat
cold steel straight through no cheese in the trap
lay in waste, screamin’ red
muscle twitch, neck crack
don’t give a f-ck about a b-tch unless she layin’ on her back
unless she wrapped up unless she missin’ half her t–th
unless she ugly as f-ck, unless she p-ss in her sleep
that’s when i’ll give a f-ck about you b-tch
don’t bounce back trigger finger’s got a itch
tied to a blue and green remote convertible
dragged through the dirt, so hurted i’m hurtible
imma beat ya -ss so loud, -ssertible
held down makin’ knee caps, invertible
i don’t give a f-ck about a thing, ever
juliet hangin’ from a swing, heathers
chasin’ down to the hamstring, leather
m-ss suicide on a scene, together
i don’t give a f-ck about a thing, not one
laid back, chillin with a twelve, shotgun
i know where you motherf-ckin’ live, mad son
candyman c-mmin’ in your t–th, rotten
imma show ya how to take a mutt and paper cut her up and b-tter on a [?] make a b-tch stutter
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