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lirik lagu the holocaust - yeah

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guess who’s back, in a baseball cap, with a rusty axe
creeping through the pumpkin patch, to chop acts, till something cracks
half a dozen [pacts, then catch a fist?], get lumped and smacked
[trojan?] guns attacks that crash against walls, like drunken bats
that fly intoxicated by the lush tropical fruit
grown from the trees, i fertilize with emcees
and read leaves, smoked out k!lla’ bees, stinging your brain
on a dirt bike, in your rearview, swinging a chain
looking strange, like bums on the train, or boxcars
you get shot, scarred, knocked far, and dropped hard
rock bars, when performing on earth, spin in the dirt
then i buck emcees, to let their ass know they couldn’t f~ck with me
constructing these dynamite rhymes, exploding twice
while you drown in arctic waters with penguins and floating ice
slice your throat with your own shoulder blade, black knight brigade
march through gates, bum the stage with a parade straight from the grave
dead slaves with the ropes still attached, shackled and chained
you move, now enchanted, my rhymes tackle your brain
[wrapped from your frays?], the jackal with fangs snap through your veins
i’m from the outskirts, where it rains shrapnel and flame
deranged, abnormal, and lonely, you couldn’t hold me
i’m drunk, lean back with a blunt, sipping a [faux?]~~~~


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