paroles de chanson Wolf Creek Pt. II - Unaverage Gang feat. Schizo

Let's not get it twisted
I'm mental and I'm wicked
I never need assistance turning bodies into liquids
Hands around your throat squeeze your neck air restricted
The key to bagging bodies in the game is my consistence
I'm a fuckin killa with the 9 inside your face
Burnin flesh for the fun Im keeping murder in my veins

Fuckin with my demons but they tell me that the devil lies
Soul reside im deep inside of all hell fire
Jig with the saw im hound without a muzzle
You a dog on a leash, you a jig without a puzzle
Caught a double homi but u know I killed a dozen
You will not find a body Jeffrey dahmer is my cousin

When I was only 6, I would always play with scissors
I'd only play the game when I can murder all my victims
Emphasis on six, I only fuck with triple digits
And if I miss the stick then I just pull the fucken trigger
Legally insane, hallucinate these fucken demons

They whisper evil thoughts, the darkness tells me I need treatment
They feed me fucken pills, strap me up inside a box
So I don't get the urge to fucken murder like I want
SCHIZO out the cell, but still been havin evil thoughts
Find a victim in a cross, take the skin and rip it off
I go off, and grab a hostage
I put a 12 to his head and blow it off 'em

Burnin down the churches cause they all runnin by a cult
Usin dono money, and they pass it as a miracle
That is why i'm cynical, your head on my Pedestal
Hauntin for some blood, we the wolves from the Underworld

Go insane, is the make up of all of the elements of my brain
Tellin my demons i'm plannin to feed 'em
I'm feedin 'em off of the pain
But nothin in this life will ever be a guarantee
Cause you dropped the seed
Separatin Adam from the Eve

What a soulless deed
World is fillin wit apologies
Mental patients wit no patience, lookin in biology
Cannibalistic murders, some of the names you heard of
Dahmer, Albert, Gibson
Finishin up their meals in the kitchen