Dope Shit - Unusual Suspects

Holdin' a kebab knife, dressed in a sheet

As I repeatedly stab myself to the beat

The only thing my job is is to skive off it

I’m psychotic, pickin' my noise via my eye socket

This is your brain on drugs, with angel dust

I don’t need to make friends, I just make them up

Don’t look directly at me like the sun

Only thing I’ve ever lost is count of how many times I’ve won

I like knives, big fearful shiny ones

I’m starting plane crashes cause the slide looks fun

Hah!

I emerge untouched from the plane wreckage

Snap your vinyl in half just to prove I can break records

At your shows main entrance, obstructing the doors

Hip hop’s dead, we just like fucking it’s corpse

Cruel people with satanic beliefs, the root of all evil would easily start in

my family tree

We be smokin' now

We be sniffin' now

We’re injectin' now

Supercalafragilisticexpiali dope shit

Scumbag -- With a nice side no one’s ever met, cause I keep my heart of gold

locked inside my treasure chest

Never second best, if we’re level peg (neck & neck)

I aim to decapitate you just to get a head

Dissect your flesh, make an outfit fresh to death, done up with belly-buttons

Measle on the back to represent

Upset the press to stress, better yet, only time I raise spirits is when I

resurrect the dead

Mass murderer — Earnin' my prison stripes, all my actions are out of hands

since I lost my grip on life

The splattered guts look so colorful!

The way I mark my turf is by sprayin' my

blood on walls

Kidnap girl scouts and use them as sex slaves and hang their heads on my wall

-- To improve on my feng shui

Before you know (?) to my next name

If a crowd give me air, they only do because I ventilate

I feed the ducks, I feed the ducks on my own.

I feed the ducks poison,

and watch them float

No, don’t, try this at home, I’ve lost my control like I can’t find the remote

I’ve had seven years bad luck three times in a row, can’t wait 'til my twenty

first, when the curse finally goes

Oh fiddle sticks, I never clean my finger prints from the incident,

or I cut someones neck, then fuck the slit in it

My throat is sore, unable to use my vocal chords

I’ve been smokin joints with a seed packed out with bulbasaur

Freddy hold the torch, while I unbolt the door

The only time I get brains is from my local morgue

You know the score, 2 unholy lords, using pins to crucify Christ on our club

house notice board

Show no remorse, I’ve never shed a tear, the end is near, and we’ll be the

messengers when it’s here