Lyrics 100 Skeletons - Bronze Nazareth
                                                [Bronze 
                                                Nazareth:]
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sound 
                                                like 
                                                    a 
                                                100 
                                                skeletons 
                                                playing 
                                                piano
 
                                    
                                
                                                Your 
                                                box 
                                                sound 
                                                is 
                                                week 
                                                as 
                                                trust 
                                                for 
                                                Sam 
                                                Gravano
 
                                    
                                
                                                Shoot 
                                                like 
                                                    a 
                                                model 
                                                colt 
                                                45 
                                                bottles
 
                                    
                                
                                                Pit 
                                                bull 
                                                terrorist 
                                                chemicals 
                                                specialist
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                seep 
                                                like 
                                                sewage 
                                                into 
                                                brains 
                                                as 
                                                sediments
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                over 
                                                pimp 
                                                the 
                                                brain 
                                                pitch, 
                                                Spanish 
                                                and 
                                                Bangladesh
 
                                    
                                
                                                Mics 
                                                be 
                                                choked 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                Hillside 
                                                Strangler
 
                                    
                                
                                                Chord 
                                                is 
                                                    a 
                                                noose, 
                                                bodies 
                                                dangled 
                                                from 
                                                the 
                                                booth 
                                                hanger
 
                                    
                                
                                                Stab 
                                                on 
                                                the 
                                                mic 
                                                like 
                                                multiple 
                                                wounds
 
                                    
                                
                                                Chest 
                                                might 
                                                ooze 
                                                from 
                                                pushin' 
                                                the 
                                                knife 
                                                through
 
                                    
                                
                                                Grow 
                                                on 
                                                    a 
                                                track 
                                                like 
                                                vines 
                                                on 
                                                    a 
                                                house
 
                                    
                                
                                                Blow 
                                                like 
                                                Marilyn 
                                                Monroe 
                                                nose 
                                                hole, 
                                                not 
                                                on 
                                                blouse
 
                                    
                                
                                                Sitting 
                                                in 
                                                my 
                                                mind 
                                                ready 
                                                to 
                                                fly 
                                                off 
                                                the 
                                                fiends
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                flatfoots 
                                                had 
                                                    a 
                                                steady 
                                                eye 
                                                on 
                                                my 
                                                routines
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                quick 
                                                as 
                                                money 
                                                comes 
                                                the 
                                                same 
                                                way 
                                                it 
                                                spends
 
                                    
                                
                                                To 
                                                pay 
                                                your 
                                                way 
                                                to 
                                                    a 
                                                coffin 
                                                that's 
                                                why 
                                                we 
                                                call 
                                                them 
                                                ends
 
                                    
                                 
                            1 Intro
2 Childhood War
3 Beat Snippet #1
4 Richteous Talk
5 Southpaw
6 Bended Knee To The Man Upstairs
7 100 Skeletons
8 He Died From Pen
9 Cassettes
10 One Day
11 Work
12 Beat Snippet #2
13 Shaolin Kung Fu Training
14 To The Table
15 Grammy
16 Solarplexis
17 Beat Snippet #3
18 Tired
19 Sinuhe (Verse)
20 Intro
21 Dopest
22 Aim At MC's 2
23 BaRonze Obama
24 Michigan Rain
25 Black Royalty (Quality Version)
26 Night Of The Long Knife
27 My Pain Is Inside These Notes
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