Shrink wrapped, jewel case with thermal printed disc.
Artwork by Kebo
Includes unlimited streaming of Necessary Evil
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
Sold Out
lyrics
[Verse 1]
Welcome to my death trap, where enemies get their necks snapped/
Heads bashed, feel the effects of my intense rap/
Immense tracks emerging f'the meth lab/
Decibels wrecking your health, you better head back/
Get mad, cause havoc on the set/
I'm a prodigy, a paragon, a paranormal spectre/
Aztec tomahawk, gonna get scalped/
Red spatter patterns of a Navajo flesh mask/
Respect? Ha! Nah! You gotta earn that/
You don't deserve credit droppin' bombs that never went aff/
You're dead last, you bent fags'll get slapped/
Wrestling your gender like Celebrity Deathmatch/
I'm steadfast, relentless when I pen pads/
hell hath no fury crueler than my breath has/
You'll get cracked f' Glesga to Belfast/
Well over your head like a mutha fuckin' jet pack/
[Hook]
"Out in tha streetz, they call it murdah!"
In cold blood, a killer when I flow words/
Chalk line where the microphone burst/
"Out in tha streetz, they call it murdah!"
In the 1st degree, I'm burnin' beats/
Incinerating syllables, turn up the heat/
[Verse 2]
Fuck a tarot card n horoscope, I'll slaughter you wi' awesome flows/
I'm on a roll, unstoppable, performing the impossible/
Bombin' up a hospital, as if it's Gotham, Robin's home/
Not a joke, I'll knot the rope n drop you f'the tallest floor/
Want some more? Naw you don't/
Thought you did but flopped before/
The monster of the audio assault, demolished all your hope/
Sorry folks, destroyin' all the pawns across the board/
The stronger force's got control n turned it into Kosovo/
Metaphorical, solvin' questions rhetorical/
the holocaustic soda, corrosive, Komodo monitor/
Stalkin' ya, followed into the swamp, where I'm watchin' ya/
cardiac arrest without the fuckin' officer/
Call the coroner's office, we got a corpse/
poppin' their clogs, I only a lick a shot if it's scotch/
Polish it off, still I'm spittin, droppin' it hot/
wi' the illest rhythm, lyricism, solid as rock/
[Hook]
"Out in tha streetz, they call it murdah!"
In cold blood, a killer when I flow words/
Chalk line where the microphone burst/
"Out in tha streetz, they call it murdah!"
In the 1st degree, I'm burnin' beats/
Incinerating syllables, turn up the heat/
