Текст песни Innovators in the Game - Skippy Ickum feat. Samson Samson

You mother fuckers know who we be
It's Skippy Ickum
And my brother Samson Samson on the wicked beat
So move your feet and go and tell your homies
You little cronies
You faget horror-core phonies
In the darkness catch me working with this half flask of bourbon
And my black backpack, and a drawstring from your curtains
I am evil, preying upon people
In my darkest hour was the last album
Well this the fucking sequel
I'm a stalker, never acting proper
If you want a chance to survive
Then you better get to the chopper
A nutcase threat to the human race
I will never hesitate to slap my fat cock on a sluts face
Bitches in my basement, suffer from depravement
Hands and feet are shackled to the anchors in the pavement
I sit adjacent, I'm laughing in amazement
No mercy for anybody, the land of the nameless and brainless Love pussy's so fucking
Bad I can taste it
Crawl among the shadows
I am one amongst the faithless
I'm not a racist, bitch I'm a rapist
My hands around your throat
Fuck you to death. Sexual sadist
You mother fuckers know who we be
It's Skippy Ickum
And my brother Samson Samson on the wicked beat
So move your feet and go and tell your homies
You little cronies
You faget horror-core phonies
This is death rap
Get your fucking neck snapped
Get your brain detached
Lying in half on the welcome mat
We not famous we shameless
We're innovators in this game
Kid, you now amongst greatness
We cut your head halfway
Then flick your brain like, hey
Mother fucker wake up when you in the presence of great
Gotta be the one to show you that this is death rap
Get your jaw snatched off with a ball bat wrapped in barbwire
I'm gonna rip that skull cap clean off
Detaching heads like freshly sharpened guillotines
Skippy Ickum, sic 'em, stick em
With the sharp end and let 'em bleed
Out into to the ditch
We buried 'em
We scary like walking in on Tyler Perry
Changing for the next Madea scene
I am marvelous, carving the carcass the art of this is
Partial with being ominous and never looking back
No emotion, I'm potent with the stench of choking these hoes
Wearing leather gloves that I use for cooking crack
You sack of shits need to find another genre
The prince has stepping in the ring
A feat you couldn't conquer
Conjure the wicked ones they bow to my very presence
And I'm foul like it was stitched into my very essence
You mother fuckers know who we be
It's Skippy Ickum
And my brother Samson Samson on the wicked beat
So move your feet and go and tell your homies
You little cronies
You faget horror-core phonies
This is death rap
Get your fucking neck snapped
Get your brain detached
Lying in half on the welcome mat
We not famous we shameless
We're innovators in this game
Kid, you now amongst greatness