lirik lagu antron singleton – ill bill
[sample: attorney milton grimes]
“i don’t think in his 26 years he’s ever… indicated a propensity to eat people, or do the things that he did to this young lady. this young man, is walking down the street, two o’clock in the afternoon, b-tt naked. and blood is all over his face, blood is on his arms, and his hands, his chest.”
[fox news interviewer]
“do you know that you where, um, you were actually chewing on her flesh allegedly when the cops came?”
[antron singleton aka big lurch]
“i mean, all i can remember, you know that the world was going to end, and i had to find the devil and k!ll the devil before the world ended.”
[verse 1: ill bill]
would you ever have thought that a rapper could cannibalize you?
angel dust is a h-ll of a buzz, it’d take your mind through
the nine luciferian planes
you could stick a pineapple up the -ss of the aryan race
i’m the sorcerer supreme, emperor of (box locals?)
razor dance on your face, i make the eyes vocal
yolo, make my ice-pick do the pogo
homie, you get barbecued like pirogi
cut off your f-cking head, hang you on my wall like a trophy
c-ka nostra like macho men posted with oakley’s
gorilla goons, bulletproof few cars
[?] cop shoot cop for fun coupons
p-ss on thousand-dollar lesbians
my shooters are k!lling everything, i hire chechyans
serving splattered, silver platters of people
murder [?], witness the madness and evil
[sample: attorney milton grimes]
“this drug is not a play thing, it’s not a beer, it’s not a marijuana cigarette. this is something so mind-altering, that it will make you a cannibal or a beast.”
[verse 2: goretex]
pop the choppers heavy
got the white cookies ’cause it’s customary
acid ceremonies got that jerry laboratory steri’
8 b-lls like tatum o’neal, mixed in with matzo meal
mausoleum drama, you get dug up like a poppy field
desert heavy-metal sh-lls
thrashers rock gazelles
ayatollah pot, cocaina, helicopter crew (krell?)
jeff walker med students
ghoulish, another deli shooter
cemetery dips, no lips, just respect the shooters
get your paper paul newman, propofol protocol
i keep b-tches around that look like rollergirl
i’m like antron when i feast on dead sp-ce
a rib-cage, refrigerator, arms and slit face
inverted reverend, vomit on the host of heaven
seventh roman shepherds
manischewitz and clerics and charlie’s resurrection
you on me like spicoli on jelly since i was embryonic
take this chalice, drink from my veins
the pain is cosmic
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