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lirik lagu flip that cross – killfuck

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[intro – invasion of the astro monster ]
“attention everyone. the unpleasant noise you are about to hear is not a mistake.”

[rotz]
b-tch i’m a basket case, that’ll blast your face
9 times with these wicked rhymes
while i masturbate all over your girls pretty titties and her face
‘for i hack her up all itty bitty and trash the place
back the f-ck up off me you’s a d-mn joke
that’s why i and karkus write that why i ride around your throat
watch you choke as i finish recording all of my shit
kid, if you were smart you’d never f-ck with us lunatics
now you f-cked, welcome to hell son
we laughing and drinking while you’re sucking the barrel of a gun
we havin’ fun, party in your girls guts
runnin’ a train, a pain that b-tch gon’ need novacane while she’s givin me brain
pouring cheap beer on dead b-tches titties and pussyholes
rippin’ out they guts just to make some hookah hose
back that pussy full of nugs pulling through and starts to puff
you know this crew is f-cking nuts so save yourself and give on up

you know we’re out our f-cking minds
another place, another time
b-tches screaming, bodies bleeding
mixed with sadistic rhymes
bred through the scares, resort to canaballistic crimes
when you been defeated gotta man up and quit your cryin’
when i shoot you b-tch quit tryin’ to survive
just hurry your -ss up, quit breathin’ and die
we bury b-tches alive under the corpses of their brethren
flip that f-cking cross around and crucify the reverend

[karkus]
b-tch i’m a lunatic, get your f-cking throat slit
knocked out in the pit for talking some bullshit
known by karkus, i’m f-cking obnoxious
12 gauge drunken rage, don’t make me c-ck this
just some drunk retards reppin’ hardgore
’till we’re unable you get strangled by your mic cord
not your typical, like subliminal, k!llf-ck
call us some haters cause your alb-m f-cking sucks
drain you dry till you die, being crucified
cause you’re fightin in fear, but you run and f-cking hide
there is no escape getting introduced to fate
pre-meditate playin gutter sluts like sharon tate
turning birth certificates into obituaries
a dose of lsd and waking up in cemetaries
its rotz ‘n karkus, f-ggots better panic
we ain’t playin’ in this b-tch, we’re f-cking satanic

you know we’re out our f-cking minds
another place, another time
b-tches screaming, bodies bleeding
mixed with sadistic rhymes
bred through the scares, resort to canaballistic crimes
when you been defeated gotta man up and quit your cryin’
when i shoot you b-tch quit tryin’ to survive
just hurry your -ss up, quit breathin’ and die
we bury b-tches alive under the corpses of their brethren
flip that f-cking cross around and crucify the reverend

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