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children of the damned - damnednation كلمات الأغنية

big thanks to jimmy dyna

[verse 1: monster under the bed]

yo, listen, sh-t
morbid, thoughtless
awkward and high
drunk off my face
putting ale in the water supply
the lord of the flies
up in your house in an -ssortment of wives
and then blow it up on the 4th of july
i sit at home and smoke cause i’m bored of my life
and i think actual cats and dogs fall from our skies
i’m going schizophrenic but ignoring the signs
i had a few more bars for this verse but i snorted the lines
insomniac, i spend all of my nights
afraid of the dark, on my bed trynna talk to the lights
i bought a gun and asked mr. wrong for the time
then proceed to sticking up a windowsill for a pie
if you think you ill then you die, simply
and if you eat this pill then you’ll fly high with me
i need my baggie to give me my buds back
and rizzla stop stealing the spliff from my skunk stash, please
i hate spitting but really i love rap
it’s my sole excuse to live as a scruffbag
give me a ‘f-ck that’ -f-ck that!
walking on the london underground drunk like “does my bomb look big in this rucksack?”

[verse 2: lee scott]

hey, yo
mr. wrong
the guy you wish you never saw
the devil’s sp-wn playing knock and run on heaven’s door
someone told me i should censor more
so f the law
and i hope you die, a fulfilled death of course
a reformed character with no regrets at all
so when i tell you you’re wack
it’s for the better cause
an amazing man, i’ll make a stand without any flaws
this here verse was written p-ssed up in h-ll on tour
i keep unsettled scores
yes, i’m raw but i’m humble
i tell the crowd to shut the f-ck up when i get applause
on december 24th you can find me with the grinch
bringing christmas in, singing jingle bells of war
a mutant s-x offender
making x-men p-rn
getting head from storm
in professor x’s dorm
watching snuff films
starring she-ra and skeletor
knocked out prince charming’s t–th charged and wrecked the ball
that pumpkin becomes a rented ford
then i run a train on snow white
in the backseat with the seven dwarves
-dreams of f-cking a cartoon b-tch-
smoke so much cess i’m forever warped
i’ll be living ill, rest -ssured
but f-ck benidorm’s best resorts
the blah familia holiday in a mental ward
green hill, death over the lowest tetris score
i’m raw
i’ve got a heart and lungs in my chest of drawers

[verse 3: bill shakes]

my art of wars sergeant’s short
i bombared your fort’s armored door
in a car i stole with your ???
attached to the bonnet with a 100 yards of rope
neckin’ bacardi raw ’till i can hardly talk
my brain discards, it’s some cautious, r-t-rded
on a throne ??? guarded by some garden gnomes
spark your nose after rolling half a ???
using scraggy carpet i stole from an apartment floor
they only blow to make a carc-ss float
body parts for boats
using severed legs and arms for oars
a considerate thief that’ll rob your house
and when i’m gone ring the police
i dont live ??? and not hit 23
i’ll drink to my death cause i won’t stop drinking deceased
bought some crib in the sea next to davey’s locker
with my mezcal and vodka mixed in my tea

[verse 4: barebase]

set the stage as i walk around
welcome to the place where people get swallowed whole
where the phantom of the opera prays on the sweat dripping off your hair follicles
sleight banana peel slip up
worst nightmare
make you swallow shrapnel like the turnstile fair
yellow bellied emcees don’t live to tell the tale
only have themselves to blame
they wanna turn out like yesterday’s news
i’m fire, exercising the best escape route
that’s why i’m digging manholes to put them in
they on some fill in the blanks flow missing something
couldn’t find flow using y shaped sticks
no evidence of liquid rushing
more unoriginal than tramps with a sign saying “gimme money”
you silly sausage, i admire your persistence
no lightbulbs above your head
past your sell by date on some dusty shelf
the lack of moisture leaves your feeling parched
the knock up on your head will leave you seeing stars…..
seeing stars….. seeing stars..

[verse 5: tony broke]

now through time shows my tight poems
spinning like cyclones, attack your lane
wannabe freestyle on mic clones
i crack your headbones when i surround you like ???
you’re so sh-t you get outshined by your hypeman
i’m the type to go super like sayan so why you lyin’?
my off the top destroys your best verse without tryin’
??? and it requires some proof
the terror lies your sh-tty flows inside the vocal booth
even if you pushed c0ke you couldn’t get a line out
cliques are having a fix when i script the ???
so everytime i’m underground like a cellar
as i creep up from the dark and mark you with an acapella fella
the drunk driving narcoleptic
with a mental f-cking infection in my brain that’s r-t-rded
mcs step in cyphers against the children of the d-mned and are left decapitated and discarded

[verse 6: flash 4dem]

my head is filled with ??? and cogs
and dreams of appearing on topics of pops
with a bomb in a box
never admitted defeat
i’m 19 and got beef with every kid on my street
don’t try me i think i k!ll in my sleep
for that would explain the flesh and guts on my pillows and sheets
and the blood that drips from my t–th when i’m sipping my tea
i rep for children in need, when i say that
i mean those who can’t afford to chit for a week
the definition of a sk!llful mc – is not you
i’m so big-headded that when i think on my feet i cripple my knees
my odd crew is a mixture of thieves and b-st-rds
f-ck drive-bys we pop shots when we swing through the trees

[verse 7: dilner the lost kid]

it’s the ??? the royal flush to take your high card threw out
you should grab the rubber ring the lifeguard threw out
my cypher’s in the deep water sea fins surround you
s.o.s. teams finish the search before they found you
the joker out the pack f-ck a dope spitter
i’m the goldenbran of rap, f-ck your own sister
but i won’t diss her cause i’ll f-ck her too
so what you gonna do when cotd rush your crew?
coming through it’s the ??? crew forever
gripping corkscrews, sticking up the full moon for cheddar
f-ck your clique, i’ll bucktooth this members b-tch
who’s your favorite rapper? f-ck you, i’m better
it’s the lost kid picking pockets of the business bosses
nickin’ wallets and swingin’ pockets, ditchin’ coppers
repping for the children of the d-mned
dilner is the man stealing silver off your hand

- children of the damned

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