YOU ARE NOW ABOUT TO ENTER BEYOND THE POINT OF TWISTED, INTO THE MIND OF MASSACRE. A KID WITH A DEMENTED SICK MIND, THAT RAPS. ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK AND ENJOY HIS SICK LYRICS AND HOT BEATS.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #4,111
Peak in subgenre #2,150
Author
Massacre
Rights
NightMare Records
Uploaded
June 12, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.0 MB • 128 kbps • 4:21
Lyrics
(V1) - I’m not the one that would throw the first punch,
But you had to go and say shit and now I gotta spray shit.
Ain’t it a bitch that’s what everybody’s sayin,
Mass just turn those verbal cuts into abrasions.
In case you’re wonderin,
I don’t give a fuck,
About you and your bitch,
You both can suck a dick.
Cuz I heard you prefer,
Being on your knees,
More than anything,
That’s how you earn your green.
I’ve turned this scene,
Into a murder spot,
Fuckin killed your pops before you heard the cops. (haha)
Now go and say something,
Bitch why you hatin on me,
You don’t even know me,
So you get off waitin on me.
To respond,
To your stupid notes,
Get a fuckin hobby or they’ll find you in a boat.
Wrists and throat slit,
Blood’s got you choking,
Don’t try to move,
Cuz every fuckin bone is broken.
I ain’t jokin,
I tell like it is,
You’ll never get signed,
Unless you’re rappin like this.
If you think you can beat me,
Your dreamin, wake up!
Go and write your corny raps,
You will never match up.
To the caliber of Massacre,
I’m too fuckin far ahead,
The game isn’t ready for me,
So I just crawl in bed.
Waitin for my chance,
To explode up in your faces,
For ages I’ve been waitin,
While I conversate with satin.
I’m happy now,
Cuz I got something to crack,
A fuckin baseball bat,
To your motherfuckin back.
how will you react,
Will you comeback with a track,
That’s sick?
But more than likely you’ll spit off something wack.
Attack me if you wanna,
I got some tricks up my sleeve,
Leavin you gaspin for air,
Locked in my trunk for weeks.
Say what you wanna say,
You won’t intimidate,
Everyday’s another day,
You can fix your mistake,
This ain’t no preschool,
You don’t get a nap time,
I’m comin at you fool,
So you better fuckin act right.
That’s right back up,
Give up you wack fuck,
Your tracks suck,
So man up,
But you’ll never stand up.
Put your hands up and praise me,
Damn you’s a baby,
Cryin on the internet cuz I hated on your gay beats.
Man take easy,
I know the truth hurts,
Take a fuckin chill pill,
And put on a fuckin skirt.
You’re a ho,
And you know,
Ain’t it low,
How you go,
And bring up a thread that happened like a month ago.
It’s sad that your life sucks,
So you gotta start beef,
You need something to do,
Write a decent song please!
And I don’t give a fuck about you being in the army,
I know people in there that wouldn’t hesitate to arm me.
You hardly fuckin bruised me,
When you said all them fake words,
Stay off of my dick fag,
Go home it ain’t yours.
I’m wastin good rhymes on a waste of fuckin space,
I ain’t lyin when I say it looks like something broke your face.
2nd place is your place,
You won’t see the very top,
You can try,
You won’t do it,
But I’ll still give you props.
I’m a sick minded kid,
With a tendency to get,
Murderous with,
Bitches, who think they can spit.
You can spit,
But you suck,
Would you swallow when I nut,
You have no chance,
And I’m sorry that you think you’re number one.
I should end this slaughter,
But it’s easy to expose you,
You’re fake and we know it,
No one needs to show you.
I’m sure your girl knows too, but supports you,
Even though she thinks you need to quit before you get booed.
I can’t go on cuz there’s really nothing left,
I’m sorry that the people in your audience are deaf,
I would never attend a show like yours,
I’d be bored before they even opened up the doors.
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