Witches Teeth

Lyrics

[Skit] This is a fifteen year old boy who also wanted to be special. Before hanging himself, he wrote on his body, "I'm coming home, Master" and "Satan Lives! 666" The book was the Satanic Bible by Anton LaVey. After Scott Waterhouse's trial, both the prosecution and the victim's father claimed that although the Satanic Bible did not condone violence, Waterhouse had interpreted it that way: The book made you feel, "Do what you wanna do", and the heck what everybody else morе or less, and I believе that that had a lot to do with it It tries to make itself innocuous, but, if you actually read it and believe it to the letter, it's a very dangerous manifesto [Intro: Vinnie Paz] Yeah, one-two! Yeah, look! [Verse 1: Vinnie Paz] They got my akhi with the Ziploc That's what happen when them D boys move to whip-wop It's a bullshit blicky, mine greater in size A killer always a killer, B, it stay in his eyes It's three of y'all, it's one of me, I'll play with the odds Sometime you pray backwards, B, and Satan replies This is something you can't study You know you got bread when you eatin' your steak bloody I see an opp and it's off with they heads And y'all gon' see the kid wildin' like I'm off of my meds You like Lefty talking to Donnie, you talking to feds I'm a Joe Spinell dirtbag walking the edge The plug talkin' white, he ain't speakin' of Caucasian It's a pale blue dot and I'm meeting with Carl Sagan I've got hitters and that mean that you get murked by whoever Just because we workin' don't mean that we workin' together [Verse 2: ILL BILL] Yo! Trump-faced Baphomet, mask of death Blood stained pump sprays at your head Guns blaze at your friend Green bean pop the dude, extreme like Mountain Dew Or Hitler experiments, German bitches, Belgian Pis Burners with extended clips, embalming fluid Newports With the extended drippety drip, it's litty lit In the palace that's draped with Basquiat An ambiance, beyond the dons and the Gods of the mafia! [Verse 3: Goretex] The dealer and pimp, butcher like DJ Polo, burn the ozone Still activist with that Howie homegrown I make bail, my face on the screen like Al Israel Beverly Hills Ninja sleeves on scales Hail the kitchen stove, got an acetone with the Tuddy stare Refrigerator Perry holds weight, fuck it, I came prepared Like Faces of Death on VHS, cut and drain you like Blessed Death Seven shots cut through your chest [Verse 4: ILL BILL] Blizzards of bullets, lizards with mullets They've gotten bold lately, they been shapeshiftin' in public Schwammy in the granny bag, where my shooters at? My day ones never have to tell 'em who to clap Medusa dinner plate, truck like the Bat Signal Black pistols blast hit you, hollow missiles crash into Last thing you see, Travis Bickle Mohawk Blast the pistol, blow your dome off Lit like a blowtorch [Verse 5: Goretex] Zoot suits, Ace Frehley boots, Pagan truth 80 shots filet your moon roof, it's LaVey on juice We will die kings, microdots under my eyelids Burn Thai stick, Pyrex fridge, oven side dish Pushing bundles on Uber drivers Two for fives, mandatory suicide Uncle Howie shoot out on joyrides Goons night out after drive-by's We go for strudel like wise guys Piano wire straight through the eyes