salar - nonterraqueous lyrics
yo,i’ll have your f-cking face strapped to a stove
watch your brain matter splatter
and ashes blaze as i stand laughing in smoke
i’m the b-st-rd you loathe surprising your wife in the night
sn-tching her clothes and ramming my shaft in her throat
then kidnap her and go to an old mansion
and start demanding a bold ransom of platinum and gold
dismantle her nose and for every day you’re late
i’ll send you a split fragment of bone attached to a note
a psycho lyricist, gets high off the cries of innocence
i swiped the chalice of life and p-ssed in it
i write rhymes hidden in a room in the cube
with no light and listen in to the silence lingering
my mind is sickening, i’m the type of invalid
to spike your b-tch’s drink with a pint of nitroglycerin
the hydro’s kicking in, tripping off vicodin, knife-fighting a viking t-tan
and sticking a trident into him
a manical shaman with plant and animal shavings
i craft black magic and practice on cavemen
commanding waves of advancing sp-cemen
in galactic battle waiting to attack after i say when
it’s madness to hate sen
any f-ggot that plays games will get slapped in the face with a weight bench
dragged in a lake by eight men
i’m such a hard-hearted b-st-rd i’ll charge my fam cash to remain friends
i’m celibate, nah i’m telling fibs
i f-cked the reverends b-tch then confessed my sin for the h-ll of it
put pressure on the pencil tip, i only press it sensitive
yet the most intensive script is expressed with it
my head can spit excellence at an executioner
for up to seventy seconds after he severed it
it’s definite, i’ve got you questioning what the meaning of impressive is
and even if it’s best you quit
you can’t f with this
a savage castaway in an angry state
banished to an everlasting fate of wrath and hate
i’ll crack your face, take before and after pics
and scan them sh-ts on an acetate
i’ll even have it framed, fax it straight to every head of state who’ll declare a national laughing day
i’m raw god i got more heart than c-ssius clay
more arms than bonaparte’s english channel raid
i think this man’s insane
i’m the murderous type to look a man firm in his eye and burn him inside
i serve in a merciless tribe
searching every speck of dirt on the earth for a sign of the birth of a christ
then form a circle of bright light and every verse i recite
incites a white bird to emerge in the sky
and i’m the worst person to fight
in the flesh i’m ten times worse than anything that you’ve heard in this rhyme
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