Текст Twisted Insane – Sweet Dreams
Текст:
Verse 1
I sit in a dark room,
With nobody but myself and,
Puttin’ on my socks unto this bottle I got off this shelf I know I need help,
Lolligaggin’ with their life and,
Thinkin’ bout cookin your noodle poppin’ your top on off with the knife and,
Brain fraidin’ to the nightstand
I know but not as cold as some of these hoes been in my refrigerator freezin’ cheaper screamin’ it was froze
One oh no,
Bloody toes and elbows
I was standin’ one foot from that motherfucker when he whispered
(Help me let go…)
But there was nobody there that could save me though,
From the monstrous chef
Knife cut you with the Freddy stripes and that hides you to death
The real Michael Myers,
No Rob Zombie
No motherfuckin’ Dr. Loomis
Just one sick individual off of a one-fifty-one when think when I do this.
Just black out,
Wake up the next day covered in blood and guts
With pieces of nuts
Leakin with the puss
And brains and kidneys stickin’ to my chucks I know it sounds fucked.
Verse 2
I know it sounds fucked up,
I can’t help it,
And I really mean this,
Use the music as a plead for help, hell believe it I really seen it the old English
‘Till it throb,
Lookin’ like a corn on the cob,
Balls bigger than Venus.
Runnin up into the pep when they seen us
Like the motherfucker was the reaper bustin’
Tryin to be tough and,
Now they’re sufferin’ the repercussions,
Midsections gushin’
Thinkin this last thought’s for be all trophy (Try to say somethin’)
But they cannot talk with a mouth full filled up with the hatred
Never rest until you meet your doom
Hit a nigga with a quick kaboom
Quick kill ’em and then I’m on the move
I’ma find out in the dune buggy
Rollin down the street with nothin’ but switcher sweet and saloon money (you know)
Somebody toast this drink for me
Keep your penis to yourself,
I don’t need nobody to think for me,
You motherfuckers all stink to me,
If you ask me, fuck it I’ma keep it to myself,
Heater on the shelf,
You can keep your health
Hearin’ like an elf
Creepin’ on the stealth
I know it sounds cold.
Verse 3
It’s cold,
Drinkin’ thinkin with the venom,
Pistol packin’ with the get ’em
Our motherfuckers like denim,
Their niggas’ faces like linen,
Lookin’ like a pretzel when I bend ’em.
Nigga you choose what sidaz,
Everyone’s still beside us,
Nigga the whose who’s and the Ridaz
No survivors, everybody dyaz’
Horror movies,
Gore movies,
More movies,
With blood and guts and more uzis,
More gruely,
Automatic weapons causin’ death and more goolies,
More frames,
More bloodstains and brains oozin’
Damn now, sick individual I be tryin’ to be gettin’ off of this east or,
Eatin’ orangutan and chilled monkey brains for dessert,
Can I get off until he’s hurt
Puttin’ bullets in it with the four-fifth
Really into witchcraft,
Don’t play with no hocus pocus.
And I gotta be the dopest,
‘Cause I’m so promotious,
Might overdose on my own shit,
Hit the sure spit (you need to relax though),
Runnin’ with the perm hit,
Bitch you ain’t learned shit? (Say what?)
Tell me when you’ve had enough or
Get your guts tucked in the cut with brains and kidneys stickin’ to my chucks,
I know it sounds fucked.
