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centa of da web - 5 lil pumpkins lyrics
[hook]
five little pumpkins sittin on a cake
first one says oh my it’s getting late
second one says there are witches in the air
third one says i really don’t care
fourth one said lets runnin runnin runnin
fifth one said i’m ready for some fun
[cryptic one]
be cautious of my lyrical forces
electricity co-rs-s through my capillaries
aggressive extensive vocabularies conductin electric current
launching frightening lighting from the turret
my mental armored tank patrollin’ the outskirts of my memory banks
an unknown enemy sentry wishes to gain entry to my mental place
there he waits at the gates for centuries
and enters the vast realms where i create
phenomenon beyond human imagination
i’m for p-ssion over human thought patterns
get splattered when i begin to split your matter
with a cannon attached to the left talon
to my chrome cybernetic electric dragon
yall jargon encased in carbon, your arteries harden
hard activity will cease when i release a verbal barrage of blows
of ill flows composed purely to sabotage my foes
i eliminate your mind state when it gyrates like joe the unknown
to my zone with twisting cyclone thrown to the end of my microphones
leaving our own eyes bleeding
our own vision now impaired by the dust
thrown into the air, i really font care
usin’ the senses to be aware of enemy defenses in my mist to quick
fl!ckin’ my wrist and now lyricists get wished quick into the abyss
[jestone]
as i enter the battle scene
n-ggas runnin’ runnin’ like a pimp whether or not
the instantaneous effects’ll shock n-ggas been sent to the pavement
with a velocity which can be determined by the rate of motion
an imported contract contraps, some implode, others simply collapse
like an -n-l spin dense flow through dulcolax
laxatives lyricals lack the ability to be processed like lactose intolerance
a countenance twist like a double helix
deoxyribonucleate as i recite
illusionary scripts through my rhymebook
and partook in a cipher, i was then left to a gas
as i enter a m-ss of emcees k!llin’ the music repet-tive patterns
lyrically, mathematically in a form of a four letter first
outer interlast, i often ask myself do i exist? or am i simply just jest
a product of evil g*nius
i jest before and justify the scene
that i’m just a physical ent-ty in the form of a jest
whose lyricals were made to penetrate the vertebraes stick from the chest
cardiac arrest and hemorrhaging the laser tunnel process of progress
through your consciousness and if you effortless to escape my mental break
when i fornicate the mind with my s-x lines you’ll give or take it
only fools contemplate running away
or attempting what you play by the stench of my decay, just like the funnel
as him play the russian roulette now tell me
i will live the luckiest
[hook]
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