paroles de chanson St.Annah ain't got shit on me - Murdok Kaine

Christian bitches listen, im still reppin triple digits
666 fuck your crucifix rather slit my wrist and die
Than pray to a god thats been falsified
Gonna call my type "satanic"
Don't cry don't panic
Im a manic psychopathic drug addict
Mental damage running rampant through my mind too much baggage to unwind
Too much happens everyday and I pray nothing seems to change
No faith in a god thats flawed
Feeling the hate steady flow in my veins
And I cope with the pain roll a J out of psalms
Burning my palms but it's turning me calm
Still its fuck god till the day i dissolve
Lost in a fog of my rights and my wrongs
When im writing this song feel my sins burning off

Fuck St.Annah
Uh
Believe in santa not your god
He propaganda uh
You pray to satan think you hot?
No you just amateur
Come to hell see im top dog
The devils manager

Bitch boy bitch i burn a church down like a witch
Kurt Cobain, I slit my wrist and blow out my brains to see nirvana
But no gods upon us only endless pain
That remains in the voids from propaganda it's insane

Tied by the chains, feeling like alice a man in a box
Locked in my malice no key to escape repeating my fate day after day
The blunts that I face never facing my problems
But money gon solve em
Praying to god it got nothing to offer
Fuck St.Annah put a gun in her mouth
Finna give her something to pray about

Fuck St.Annah
Uh
Believe in santa not your god
He propaganda uh
You pray to satan think you hot?
No you just amateur
Come to hell see im top dog
The devils manager