Esham - The Wicked sh** Will Never Die - 1994 lyrics

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6 Here comes the voodoo what'cha gone do when my crew Back from the dead once more again f**in' up the flow again, f** it here we go again Oh, not me again, last time I wrecked sh** Burned down the church comin' through like the exorcist Next to this, you get put on my sh** list Throw lifers get dissed you can't f** with this Wicked wild, wicked style, I don't give a f** I'll get buck wild I'm psycho just like Michael And I might go a little something like this, suicidalist Dangerous minds bust when I bust Digging up dust now I must, in God you trust If I add just then I add just this No justice, no peace, bloody body police Belly of da pig got me fiendin' for a cracker Jack be nimble make your body tremble Cardiac arrest for the one in the chest Then I K-I-double L T-H-E-F-E-T-U-S Yes, I'm down with N-A-T-A-S, I suggest You try but don't cry, 'cause the wicked sh**'ll never die Once again I ressurected n***az unexpected A closed casket when I leaped out and blasted a basket Case brother of insanity I'm not alone Havin' fatal thoughts of puttin' a chrome to my dome Now what kinda wicked sh**? This some ol' wicked sh** Not so many n***az all over devil diggin' sh** Stay up off my dick, my style's sick, but I'm so sick of this Helter skelter bite my sh**, it's so ridiculous I know my sh**'s phatter than Luther Vandross Psychic connection wanna hit me with the holy ghost Overdose, diagnose, n***az in a comotose Once I buck, buck ya, n***a motherf** ya Voodoo wicked child born a ba*tard Visions of bloody bodies bein' blasted Thinkin' of excuses, voices in my head mental abuses Loses my mind, thought the flatline refuses To answer, you can fess sh** as you question Me and myself verses Smith and Wesson I'm that n***a with the wicked a** flow b**h you better act like you know 'Cause the wicked sh** will never die The wicked sh** will never 187 Never go to heaven and f** that reverend All day whenever and Feel like givin' up, mind starts blowin' up Some old wicked sh**, once again I'm throwin' up A fit, I'm never gonna get into heaven That's why I bought me a three 57 f** a reverend, and God I can't trust is true So when I go to hell, better me and not you I'ma walk the bloody trail and you can follow if you want If you truly understand but my man I think you don't I'm a suicidal revital, my title's homicidal So many n***az will die when I write my recital They don't understand that I gotta plan for the klan The area nation, white caucasian I'm sick of all the bullsh** I'd rather be dead But first I better put a bullet in your head instead They said that everything I said was a lie But if you go and k** the fetus you cry But the wicked sh** will never die