Videotapes
[Verse 1: Jak Tripper]
Happy music
Yo, I'm on harbor like Lovecraft and Dunwich
Spaced out like Duddits
Lacin' blunts at the commune dusted
Abuse of prescription pills wrenchin' my stomach
Agoraphobic stuck in my house like Walter Hudson
Dump paint buckets, slumped over huffin'
Eyes sunken like two black holes are punched in
I don't rock Converse 'cause I'm an Emo punk, I'm fuckin' Grunge, bitch
Grunge is dead
Pull out my Devil worship and suck it
Fuckin' USA Supercoven
A pig vomit
Stuffed in sheep guts like haggis, horseback, and donkey dung buzzes
[Verse 2: Gore Elohim]
The 50 Cal. muzzle loader watch you slumped over
We cut vulvas, ceremonies, exotic sofas
Weekends we on speedboats
I'm in the hood, caked up, girls' hair cover my fuckin' peacoat
Lysergic weed smoke
We worship Satan and C-notes
Tex Watson, 60 embedded cult primo
Expectant mothers always need tokes, from Buick Regals
Luminous evil, I sell bad dope to good people
Black impiety
Goats line the cathedral
Rap ecologist, astrology pure evil, the Regal Beagle
Demented retribution, Jak Tripper rock the Desi
And take a part of your face off like drunk Chevies
I never had a license, legally it ain't a felon
Crush the elderly under tires, they're fuckin' watermelons
[Verse 3: Jak Tripper]
Everybody grab a head on a stick, let's build a shrine
I kill kids with Wayne Williams asphyxiation stimuli
College is missin' five
Passenger seat missin' fit for dimes
Picked up nine
Dumped, in a pit defined
We visited different sites
Sticks and leaves lifted, dig up hides
Intercourse forbidden he thought, moving the earwigs aside
Did it swattin' flies in a van, sippin'
Codeine-smokin', trip sniffin' white
Bundles of black sherm
Kill the youth from TV reigns gut all the trackers
I clip zealots and hit the communes soaking spice and muscle relaxers
[Verse 4: Gore Elohim]
It's the pagan with shady traits
The killer with Amazing Grace
Have to return some videotapes, it closes at eight
Manson wig, beard slicked back
Caked blood on my teeth
Old Cherokee with the ski rack
Raquel Welch clones tickle grundles for G packs
Home invasions, I rock a three-piece suit
My dick gets hard for blood bubbles and brain stew
The taste of cadavers, is similar to fondue
Peter Fonda meets Fenriz, homie, that's Gore too
Prefer my violence vivid, my victims are timid
Even Taylor Momsen's standing up for Kathie Lee Gifford
Farragut bathtubs, bringin' your body to Bed-Stuy
I'm in the jungle, lookin' for death like Left Eye
Hit your family for ten-five
Henny shots, Suzuki sidekicks watchin' Disorderlies
Blowin' bitches on Sybians
Fuckin' Yiddish mommies and Portuguese
They call me Plague Boss
You'll die in shame like the son of Madoff
Liquify your face off like chicken fried steak sauce
I lost faith in God so I walk the left path
Crisis-shit, the cash from ravin' fiends who sniff glass
(Hehe)