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Ese 40'Z
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Buried Alive
(Ese 40'z Verse One) I hear the scratches in the walls and the whispers through the halls callin out my name as my mind slowly falls into a pit pitch black smoke filled I reminisce roll a blunt and kick back as I enter the abyss with a fist fulla shells and a roulette revolver fuck a suicide I'm walking dead as I alter my brain with these toxic, chemicals I profit off of misery just another wicked project the world is my casket cemetery plottin inhale formaldehyde but my body keep on rotten away to the dust decayin is a must when you're preying on the crushed eternally I trust in the fact that a death will come to us all gaspin for breath as I come to recall better days, but they say O twelve is the prophecy end of the line for the times so I gotta be fuckin with a landslide bury me in darkness don't wanna be a cup of ashes for the heartless or a free mason no illuminatin if that was the case then you could bury me with satan
'Chorus' Fuckin with the realest ill let's kill this spittin wicked verses I'm rehearsin so you feel this speakin on the dead and all the bodies in the graves I think I hear the reaper callin out my fuckin name fuckin with the truest on some new shit actin foolish knowing I could do this hit em first and leave em clueless because I'm livin lawless doing all this feeling flawless my flows they be the rawest on the frontline stand the tallest rush em with a blitz though feeling kinda skitzo lookin out the window watching all the wind blow trying to hit the tempo grab a pen or pencil take it to the temple smoke up in my mental
(Ese 40'z Verse 2) I'm in the Palace with Crystal six dollar bottle shots of the vodka, lyrics fully auto matic on the static when I'm creepin after hours stories end up tragic leave you pushin up the flowers in the land of the dead and deceased in a coffin tombstone quotes while I float and I'm off in a whole nother plane on an astral projection obsession with death can't stop the infection evil minded, fool you've been blinded control is the method rich and powerful behind it the elite fuck em........ I'm on the project porches plottin on survival dodgin demonic forces with torches is how they blow another bowl and load it with the spirit of the blackest wicked soul I keep strainin to hear for my search and my rescue trapped underground with no air turn my flesh blue sleep with the maggots let the worms go and feast Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com as we practice deadly habits in the belly of the beast
(Chorus) Fuckin with the realest ill let's kill this spittin wicked verses I'm rehearsin so you feel this speakin on the dead and all the bodies in the graves I think I hear the reaper callin out my fuckin name fuckin with the truest on some new shit actin foolish knowing I could do this hit em first and leave em clueless because I'm livin lawless doing all this feeling flawless my flows they be the rawest on the frontline stand the tallest rush em with a blitz though feeling kinda skitzo lookin out the window watching all the wind blow trying to hit the tempo grab a pen or pencil take it to the temple smoke up in my mental
(Ese 40'z Verse 3) Revelations...take a fully clip and dump it eye for an eye as they sound the seventh trumpet new world.....who be ordering the slaughter genocide and homicide on your son and daughter in this..... all the suffering is endless struggling to send this message is horrendous the shadiest the gloomiest in the darkest hour one world one goal as they unite around the tower surrounded by filth in a nation full of lies just waiting for the kill so I'm not taken by surprise because they infiltrate the media infiltrate the movies infiltrate the music and they do it all so smoothly open up our eyes and we rotten from our vision rotten from our hearing, rotten from the way we living fuck it...fake tears from the puppets hanging by the strings of the things that they covet tunneling the earth and preparing for the outcome evil giving birth to a storm we cannot out run the signs and the symbols are around us everyday till the earth opens up and the dead come out to pay
(Chorus) Fuckin with the realest ill let's kill this spittin wicked verses I'm rehearsin so you feel this speakin on the dead and all the bodies in the graves I think I hear the reaper callin out my fuckin name fuckin with the truest on some new shit actin foolish knowing I could do this hit em first and leave em clueless because I'm livin lawless doing all this feeling flawless my flows they be the rawest on the frontline stand the tallest rush em with a blitz though feeling kinda skitzo lookin out the window watching all the wind blow trying to hit the tempo grab a pen or pencil take it to the temple smoke up in my mental
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