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City's Lunatic
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Sick rhymes with a down south beat. I highly apologize for the sound quality
Been into this rap thing for 20 years now, listening and studying more than practicing. At 25 years old, I'm finally making moves. Yeah, it's long over due, but it is all in due time. Listening to my songs and checking out my page, people may get the idea that J Malice is a monster or sicko; couldn't be further from the truth. J Malice has a heart and is willing to bet any amount of wealth that it's bigger than anyone who chooses to come through here. Don't judge a book by it's cover. You have to open the pages and read inside if you really want to know about someone.
Song Info
Uploaded
January 19, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.3 MB 128 kbps 3:43
Lyrics
I'm coming after these b*tches like Billy and Stu/ iller than evil dreams fulfilling and my killing is true/ everybody's feeling for you, this is real, I'm spilling your juice/ your odds of survival are about a million and two/ slicing vocal chords in the throats while choking whores/ grab a bowl with salt and soap to hold and soak your open sores/ no-hope galore, no jokes, soon as I close the door/ you scream all you want, but not before your soul is torn/ a man-with-blood-that's-cold born to slash and kill/ make you like math class fractions, split your ass and heels/ gag you with pills, splash gas in your face until your Adam's Apple squeals/ if I can't get the satisfaction, I know the maggots will/ it's an action thrill when I see demises/ I'll seem nice, but then I'll creep through your front door and beat you with three devices/ the scenes are priceless, curling iron, machine and knight stick/ how'd I use the curling iron, ha ha, it's quite sick/ get it hot and then mash to your chest/ that's classic slasher fashion, to a closed-caskett for rest/ now can you imagine me on my quest with no passion for death/ that's like strung out crack addicts, not asking for meth/ and my journey resumes, there's many others to slay/ the news is saying, "is he done for the day"/ hell nah bitch, stupid question, everyone is to pay/ there's a city-wide curfew, but still I have em running away Fear builds up, another one goes down/ where will you be when the sun goes down/ this is a question that I have to ask/ to see where the next stop is on my caskett path/ out there listening, if you're new to this/ your town is my personal free looney bin/ all they can say is, this guy is really losing it/ yours truly, City's Lunatic Words I say, you trying to comprehend and having spasms/ massive attacks on the brain and you can barely last them/ scary fathom, like dying in slow-motion from fatal-asthma/ I'm laughing with sarcasm, calling out the "BOY" like "Tall Man" in "Phantasm"/ step to me and successfully rest in peace/ I wreck your set with ease and rip out your chest like a hysterectomy/ they dreadfully detected me, blood bath, no referree/ power blessed me, respectfully and checking me from leprosy/ so you'll never see me collapsing on the block/ but instead, standing and laughing at your hands on the glock/ bashing, slashing and stabbing your clock/ eternal happiness with passion for the aftermath which has your body split in half and tossed/ lying back in moss, your new residence is the river/ authorities step in, but can't get the evidence in your liver/ an electric lead missile was pressed in your inner/ frame, no name, cold, John Doe, call the coroner to dress him for winter/ express my opinions with any means that it takes/ I slither in my mission like when Adam and Eve seen the snake/ prone to murder both asleep and awake/ sneak in your room, stand on your neck, mash with my feet till it breaks/ Sinister maybe, but that's just the way that it be/ Sinister maybe, but that's just the way it's me/ Sick maybe, but that's the thoughts up in my brain/ Sick maybe, I shouldn't have been born insane *laughter*
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