Lyrics

Ima enter your lungs like smoke Come back in 30 years, gonna hunt you like a ghost, you gonna choke That's delayed retribution Come up unexpected at your family reunion White noise filling up the silence in your head Keep walking like you don't know that you're already dead You already made your bed Now Ima tuck you in with a shovel in my hand Put you to sleep, rock-a-bye three feet deep A shallow grave so the wolves can feed You tried to bury the hatchet where nobody could see But the devil you know, ain't the devil in me I'm the Son of Sam You don't know who the hell I am The whole point of the plot was never just revenge I'm the man in black with a red right hand There's no rest for the wicked Just a grave in the sand Call the priest 'cause I need an exorcist I got my soul in a bottle on my necklace Gonna sell it cause you know I'm a perfectionist I know that murder done right costs an arm and leg Gonna violate him Knock out all the gold teeth, put em on my knife blade Cut a fucking smile on him Guess he gets the last laugh, funny how the joke's dead That's a double punchline about life and death Emancipated his lungs right out his chest Now he's on his hands and knees he's out of breath He saw the right coming, shoulda anticipated the left Payback's a bitch, and I know her the best Dark side, I've got the reputation on my side I come alive under the full moon at midnight Stole the Reapers occupation and I brought my own scythe Jeepers creepers it's the 23rd and I'm all eyes War-forged, got guts and I'm swinging a broadsword one-handed Go berserk in this bitch and I'll take the whole hoard I'm positioned opposite the opposition I don't give a fuck about the odds it won't make a difference No Face, death dealer No Face, No Face Breath stealer No Face, death dealer No Face, No Face Breath stealer No Face, death dealer No Face, No Face Breath stealer No Face, death dealer No Face, No Face Breath stealer I feel the pressure rise, I can't deny it The sweat is dripping down my back This heat is violent Take me to bed and fuck the hell from out my mind babe Intoxicated, over-stimulate my blind faith Rage is contagious in most situations And I'm sick with it I'm sick with it I can feel the breathing of all my favorite demons Yeah we get along For the most part we get along
Writer(s): Jacob Impellizzeri, Oscar Porter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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