Goretorium
[Bloodsucking Freaks Intro]
[Verse I]:
A row sellin' coke in my lobby to Jody Watley, would stop for Christ
Too much posse bundles are no poppy
Black angels on the bag, dummies fallin' out
Disclose a fortune cookie
Break it open, region thoughts, I'm out
Leave a pretty corpse like a pounce, fuck 'em out through her blouse
I put the stick through her head then place it on the couch
Polaroids like Gene Simmons but my bitch is dead
Fatal portraits of natural blondes with missin' heads
I stopped datin' my new addiction it's chicks with dreads
Knockers to hackеrs her skull popples werе hit with lead
I leave a kitchen red, sophisticated killer net
Look at the green onions, blood seep in your silhouette
Mausoleum sport sipper like Capri Sun
Dissection shirt that dig the posers when D's come
Bitches say I'm self-absorbed, I need oven cleaners
Muzzle loader, I call it lunch meat, run it through the vegans
Motherfucker brains still like pulled pork
A crude sport, king of the landfills of New York
My goons sick, half crooks, half detergent
The triple six, half pooks, half perversion
Street vermin, king of Acrivon, burn churches
I love bitches in white that's why I burn nurses
I'm movin' coke in NERF balls like I'm Larry Flint
Death blues, bloody partician windows'll eye you in
[Chorus (x4)]:
This is Goretorium, murder junkie, I'm the Bad Lieutenant
Children of Doom, dope lords, acid coke sellin'
The Mexican Beherit
[Verse II]:
The Forbes killer Top 10 givin' coffin vapors
I never fold the Janet, clearin' you my Jordan agents
Poster boy, terror wave, Oklahoma City
My reputation for car bombs is Frank Nitty
Watchin' the ozone burn, terrorist slow mo'
Celebrity Roast, Travolta court, kill Chaz Bono
Putrefaction ceremony blaze triple wizard
The lightbearer inverted to any Christian image
Leak ambassador, hater get the Martians wept
Pagan stars in prostitution rings like a martyr's rep
I'll carve your neck, cartridge catch, I'm the art of death
I'm Chris Farley shirt open on the carpet wet
You cats recital bounce sloppy to tell the NARCs are blessed
Either that a chick in my freezer, see the carcass left
The mark of the TEC, reap cons of flesh who be dodgin' the vets
My reputation is carvin' his fuckin' best
Supermarket fresh covers lay your body limp
Rabbis put makeup on your face when the shotty hit
[Chorus (x4)]