drums
music
metal
fusion
experimental
industrial
project
killer
psycho
machines
Lyrics
Aw, smack, snap
You never get sick of that
You put a bullet in your head for less than that
M-16, she’s so mean
Bullet-ridden flesh, meat so lean
Smack, whack, psycho pack
Give your head a crack
Cocaine, metaphine, smack
You can’t see fiction
You can’t see fact
Your whole goddamn history is a testament to that
Home-made, scratch blade, hands up, it’s a raid
You got played.
Aw, glass, mass, procreatin ass
High-fallutin freak, no class
You got made, got played, got laid
All you got now is a shit-smile
And a glass of lemonade
You made the cash and paid it
Well, you call yourself a grown man
You call yourself a grown man
Workin for the government
Goin with a master plan
With a gun in your hand
A gun in your hand
Thinkin on a master plan