Branestorm - Wizards Of Gore lyrics

[Jak Tripper] About to go in, goat chin Black cone, low brim A thousand yard stare, no grin Cult sh**, hooded culprit, occultist Hold the beam to your dome, boat it Retract hair, astral dome it I dumb out like Polish Yo my block covered in more snow then Poland What's a goon to a goblin When I be getting oagrish My bars heavy juicing like Canseco '84 Oakland I make art from your whole skin More bars than Folsom, wicked Holding that barrel kicking Heavy black steel, looking like a witches cauldron I welcome all rappers that rep sickness and got d**h wishes I'll cut your skin off and hang it outside like wet linen I work with lines like electrician I body rounds, take anybody out 10 minutes His body found, head's missing [Branestorm] "ahh your mother's guts" Litiratures doors lead to forbidden halls were walls bleed hittin records like leak and morfen Horrorgore creaky floor beam. Golums scorn, In solitude spray membranes threw dollar tubes and send vains motivation to follow threw on the latest head game. Better luck on the next take Trample thought , I rep wit ampige more advanced then thor's, Pale face fork tounge, I wale ba** and scorch drums on a racid corse, tighter then orch hugs, on more d** then Whitney the night that she saw light, at the end of the tub [Jak Tripper] f** the coin flipping, I'm flipping out More firearms than a burning octopus, gripping pounds You a body bag, no matter what rap sh** you spitting out To me you look like a walking casket with legs sticking out [Branestorm] Jump guns on one lung, the budgets none, Got hard dick and bubble gum, you twiddle thumbs, Wraps a shuttle to the middle of the sun, You're catching jitterbugs, wouldn't wish you a bit of luck, Hope your bitter with a grudge, I'll drain every bit of blood [Jak Tripper] I write, I trip hard, eat peyote cactus and feel it Spit toad poison back, and use a sense of muscle reacts you can hear it You'll get bashed into sheil skin The shotgun may knock me back when I peel it But it'll but his f**ing back thru the ceiling Jak, this is real sh** If I'm trashed this kids is real sh**, no actual real sh** [Branestorm] Call you out like " yeah n***a what " f** you, it's all the same, I want to destroy your sweater, so I'll hold the string as you walk away, I'm over beats, under rain , Out my mind, Side-by-side with The devil in his hey day, With a blood red Suit and a gray cape Ejecting a platinum tape from the ca**ette deck in his chest plate , its arson ! (Oscar: What does it look like I'm doing Bob? - Bob: Well it looks like you're, well making a mess. - Oscar: I'm getting ready to sing my song, so I'm throwing out all my trash on to the sidewalk. Isn't it beautiful? - Bob: Well I wouldn't say it's exactly beautiful.) [an excerpt from I Love Trash by Oscar The Grouch]