lirik lagu esham - don't blame me
[verse 1:]
here i come, better run i gotta sawed off shotgun
pump that buck and you might catch a hot one
call me a head hunter, head’s i’ve chopped off
cemetery full from the bodies i dropped off
motherf-ckers hate me, cause i’m singing blasphemy
die and go to h-ll and when you get there ask for me
come along for the ride, drive you to suicide
i’m the unholy esham, that’s right
get me a razor blade and i might jack a spade
or jack jack my d-ck to a poor p-rno fl1ck
nasty motherf-cker with the wicked mentallity
thirteen ways is a small technicality
cause i got one, blow your f-ckin head out
pull your f-ckin eyes out, just to get the red out
if you be a n-gga or a white boy honkey
i get funky, hip hop junkie
serial k!ller, frosted flakes
f-cked up in the head wakin’ up with the shakes
those are the breaks, f-ckin’ up the fakes
some sh-t i make you can’t take
but don’t blame me
[interlude:]
don’t blame me
don’t blame me
don’t blame me
don’t blame me, the devil made me do it
[verse 2:]
better reach your children, cause i might burn em’
teach em’ and learn em’ a motherf-ckin lesson
get my smith & wesson and blow your baby’s head off
from watchin bullsh-t, turn the t.v. set off
psycho, and i might go like michael
say some sh-t that you might not like so
who’s that god that you praise the lord to?
buyin that ticket to the heavens, can’t afford to
esham’s back with the old jack swing
i don’t pray or none or those things
now we got n-ggas that’s rappin bout god ya’ll
praise the lord to me the black eyeball
i ain’t no joke and my words ain’t fiction
if you think so you can suck my d-ck then
i don’t like preachers, or prayers, but playas
esham the unholy wicked rhymesayer
swing with the slayer, sing if you dare
but just like before i don’t care
and don’t blame me
[hook]
don’t blame me (we are searchers of the truth)
don’t blame me (we are searchers of the truth)
don’t blame me (we are searchers of the truth)
don’t blame me, the devil made me do it
[verse 3:]
sick in the head, naughty like a dread
pump that lead cause i’d rather be dead
gimme what you got if you hip you get with me
i think my wrist is talkin to you tellin you to slit me
suicidalist and i’m unorthadox
down with the black sox, whiskey on the rocks
you might catch me in a jail cell with a wig
i slaughtered me a pig, but you can’t dig
the voices in my head, tellin me to waste ya
pig that bacon ham sandwich i can taste ya
everybody lookin for a bible to touch
we shall overcome is a bit too much
but you can’t touch this
religion is some hokus-pokus
betcha seein god when you focus
but when the day comes and you gotta run for shelter
now you screamin h-llterskellter
d-mn, you gotta turn off the t.v
or don’t blame me
[hook:]
don’t blame me (dont start no sh-t now)
don’t blame me (dont start no sh-t now)
don’t blame me (dont start no sh-t now)
don’t balme me, the devil made me do it
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