Lyrics

[Verse 1] One, two, three, four, five, six, six, six, here comes the voodoo What 'cha gon' do when my crew Back from the dead once mo' again? Fuckin' up the flow again, fuck it, here we go again Oh, not me again, last time I wrecked shit Burned down the church, comin' through like the Exorcist Next to this you getting put on my shit list Pro-lifers get dissed, you can't fuck with this Wicked wild, wicked style I don't give a fuck, I'll get buck wild I'm psycho, just like Michael And I might go a little something like this Suicidalist, dangerous, minds bust when I bust Kickin' up dust, now I must, in God you trust If I add just, then I add just this, no justice, no police Bloody body, police, belly of the beast Got me fiendin' for a cracker, Jack be nimble Make your body tremble Cardiac arrest from the one in the chest Then I'll K-I-double-L-T-H-E-F-E-T-U-S, yes I'm down with N-A-T-A-S, I suggest you try but don't cry 'Cause the Wicketshit will never die [Verse 2] Once again I resurrected, niggas unexpected the closed casket When I leaped out and blasted a basketcase Symptoms of Insanity I'm not alone Having fatal thoughts of putting the chrome to my dome Now what kind of Wicketshit is Some Old Wicketshit? Got so many niggas all on the Devil's dick and shit Stay up off my dick, my style's sick, but I'm so sick of this Hellterskkkelter, bite my shit, it's so ridiculous I know my shit's fatter than Luther Vandross Psychic connection want to hit me with the Holy Ghost Overdose, diagnose, niggas in a comotose Once I buck, buck you, nigga motherfuck you Voodoo, wicked child born a bastard Visions of bloody bodies being blasted Thinking of excuses, voices in my head Mental abuses to lose my mind on the flatline Refuses to answer, you can bless shit 'til you question Me and myself versus Smith & Wesson I'm that nigga with the wicket ass flow Bitch you better act like you know 'Cause the Wicketshit will never die [Verse 3] The Wicketshit will never 187, never go to Heaven, and Fuck that Reverend, all day whenever and Feel like givin' up, mind starts blowin' up Some Old Wicketshit, once again I'm throwin' up a fit I'm never going to get into Heaven That's why I bought me a .357, fuck a Reverend And God I can't trust, it's true, so when I go to Hell Better me and not you, I'm going to walk the bloody trail And you can follow if you want If you truly understand, but my man I think you don't I'm a suicidal, revital, my title's homicidal So many niggas have died when I write my recital They don't understand that I gotta plan for the Klan The Aryan Nation, white caucasian I'm sick of all this bullshit, I'd rather be dead But first I'd rather put a bullet in your head instead They said that everything I said was a lie But if you go and kill the fetus you'll cry But the Wicketshit will never die