lirik lagu unusual suspects - dope shit
[cruger]
holdin’ a kebab knife, dressed in a sheet
as i repeatedly stab myself to the beat
the only thing my job is is to skive off it
i’m psychotic, pickin’ my noise via my eye socket
this is your brain on drugs, with angel dust
i don’t need to make friends, i just make them up
don’t look directly at me like the sun
only thing i’ve ever lost is count of how many times i’ve won
i like knives, big f-ck off shiny ones
i’m starting plane crashes cause the slide looks fun
hah! i emerge untouched from the plane wreckage
snap your vinyl in half just to prove i can break records
at your shows main entrance, obstructing the doors
hip hop’s dead, we just like f-cking it’s corpse
cruel people with satanic beliefs
the root of all evil leads to the start of my family tree
[hook x2]
we be smokin’ that (dope sh-t)
we be sniffin’ that (dope sh-t)
we’re injectin’ that (dope sh-t)
supercalafragilisticexpiali dope sh-t
[measle]
sc-mbag — with a nice side no one’s ever met, cause i keep my heart of gold locked inside my treasure chest
never second best, if we’re level peg (neck & neck)
i aim to decapitate you just to get a head
dissect your flesh, make an outfit fresh to death
done up with belly-b-ttons, measle on the back to represent
upset, depressed and stressed, better yet
only time i raise spirits is when i resurrect the dead
m-ss murderer, earnin’ my prison stripes
all my actions are out of hand since i lost my grip on life
the splattered guts look so colorful!
the way i mark my turf is by sprayin’ my blood on walls
kidnap girl scouts and use them as s-x slaves
and hang their heads on my wall to improve on my feng shui
(?) to my next name
if a crowd give me air, they only do because i vent hate
[hook x2]
[cruger]
i feed the ducks, i feed the ducks on my own
i feed the ducks poison, and watch them float
no, don’t, try this at home
i’ve lost my control like i can’t find the remote
i’ve had seven years bad luck three times in a row
can’t wait ’til my twenty first, when the curse finally goes
[measle]
oh fiddle sticks, i never clean my finger prints
from the incident where i cut someones neck then f-cked the slit in it
my throat is sore, unable to use my vocal chords
i ain’t been smokin draw but a zoot packed out with bulbasaur
freddy hold the torch, while i unbolt the door
the only time i get brains is from my local morgue
you know the score, 2 unholy lords
using pins to crucify christ on our club house notice board
[cruger]
show no remorse, i’ve never shed a tear
the end is near and we’ll be the messengers when it’s here
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