lirik lagu torné – break for lunch
[intro]
– leave him alone miss ilsa, you’re bad luck to him
– play it once, sam, for old times sake
– i don’t know what you mean, miss ilsa
– play it, sam. play as time goes by
– oh i can’t remember it, miss ilsa, i’m a little rusted
[verse 1]
finally, a break for lunch
brought some for food thought to eat at twelve o’ clock
and some schnapps and rum, to p-ss the hardship
the beast he worship, it ceases the torment
hope to see you determined to beat the monsters
hidden in the shadows of the foggy buster, f-cking cl-ster
filibuster, you can’t evade the inevitable, silly youngster
so hurry up, p-ss the mustard
for this stuffed arepa, it’s getting blizzardous
good thing he always packs a handful of cigarettes
ashes on his helmet, half of them is his smoke
the other half his enemies, them n-gg-s is long gone
“you villain, why are you doing this?”
to prepare for this soothing theme, stop ruining it lunatic
you taste defeat, as he tastes the lunch
your food is cooling as he finishes his food for thought
exquisite, you delinquents don’t get it
you don’t rob for money, you rob cuz it’s upsetting
you don’t just perform an -ss-ssination
you sacrifice someone in the name of world domination
you don’t just smash a thot then keep the child in thought
you smash the thot to leave the kid in a broken home
go ahead, cause the mayhem, do the chaos
villain be pulling the strings, see ya in the occultist seance
and keep some for later
[bridge]
– i’ll hum it for you
time for the cavalry to arrive, isn’t it?
[verse 2]
but n-body came, just me and my broken spirit
stories spoken, vivid, lyrics from a so called incoherent
disautonomous on the microphone, verses written by torn
on a leaf that fell from a tree in front of a drug store
geltabs, gangsta punkz signature
spit harder than half of them n-gg-s, it pays off to be sinister
cigarette on the pocket, give me a minute to smoke it
hand the blunt, about to toke it and fly high, hit the sp-ce like a rocket
late night, hitting the dopeman for some more
before i p-ss through the h-ll’s door, get my mind gone
mad buddha, from 10 homies, 9 judas
lone student, don’t ask me how the f-ck i’m doing
you’re f-cking useless
grab a gun, you ain’t man enough to point it at someone and shoot the bullet
triple six vibe, inverted pentagram rhyme
satan protects ’cause god in his prime couldn’t do it anytime
f-cking f-ggot -ss, nature bending motherf-cker
rather sin to death than follow the rules of a parasite
and that’s my last rhyme
and now i’m gone
[outro]
– where is him?
– i don’t know, i ain’t seen him all night
– when will he be back?
– not tonight no more. he ain’t coming. uh, he went home
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