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lirik lagu masters of homicide – rozz dyliams

[verse 1: rozz dyliams]
a k!ller with a crooked brain. beat knocker
hit you with that thang that’ll put a dip up in yo f-ckin’ posture
give it up for the multi-tasker. hit ’em up like a monster
one time for the murder master, as i ignite the whole block up
i got a need to k!ll in me
how do i shake this villiany?
how do i deal with this, and how do i think these evil thoughts up
homicidal villian, kickin’ k!lla game
like a wise .45 to the fetus to take away its pain
dylan ’bout to make a stang. i tear you up from limb to limb
in front of your b-tch-ss family, then i take you out the game
doin’ it, doin’ it. put your head in a vice, and scr-w-ng it
in a barn. in the woods. where no one know the evil that do exist
while tetnis needles in your body f-ck you and your mans raw
split you in half with my bansaw
stack all the pieces in bags, and drag y’all
right behind the building, and let the rodents have at y’all
(rozz)

masters of homicide
(taking them out. snuffing them out. burning them up)
masters of homicide
(spooky sound)
masters of homicide
(cut them up. choppin’ up into tiny bits)
masters of homicide
(leaving a newborn baby sucking the milk out your severed t-ts)

[verse 2: sc-m]
creeping up on a happy couple, pulling a gruesome bl–dy double
homicide, when the knife inside of a gut, i cut from side to side
when your limbs are tied with your own intestine, hoping you’d die
but you won’t. im best in making this fun go on and on
and your suffering, i’ma just prolong
motherf-cka like me is what they calla human hater
sooner or later when we meet, i’ma greet your face with a hammer blow
sh-t i f-ckin spit is raw like the d-ck of an angry masturbator
pretty faces mutilator, loving to let the crimson flow
buck buck buck, im gonna be shooting up this party
droppin’ a body after body, let the bodies h-t the floor
drowning pool i’m about to use when i’m out of ammo for my shottie
holding their heads under the water, theres no bubbles anymore
then i’ma set this house on fire, yo im freshly out of water
having to use it for the slaughter, leaving us none to put it out
let that motherf-cker burn, and the ones inside alive
they oughta wish they died, when they had the chance
and i bet they do when i hear them shout
(sc-m)

[verse 3: rozz dyliams]
k!ll ’em all. f-ck ’em all. make ’em all pay
i’ma stay knocking busters off until my dying day
i awake from a nightmare, excited by the hate
you might find a trace segment, but you’ll never find a tape
i exterminate weak b-tches blinded by the faith
try to pray the f-ck up out the fact you gonna die to day
try to make me laugh, it’s the lunatic psychopath
on a funky b-tch k!llin’ rage-filled warpath
i’ma stay damaging
everything you stand for
dylan stands for independent waste management
early in the morning stuffing victims up in body bags
and all my body bags came from stealing them from ambulances
cannabis is on my brain all the time
no duh. no dip, dimwit. dylan make quoda
many murder victims and i don’t need no momentos
got a shrine in my mind, full of prized individuals
(rozz)

- rozz dyliams

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