Thinking About Your Death Songtext

Rozz Dyliams

von Dylvia Roska

Thinking About Your Death Songtext
Woke up early Saturday morning cellular phone was ringing
No it wasn't
I was buzzin' off the function yesterday that I partook in
All of a sudden I'm outside
Showered and dressed and ready to ride
On anyone who ever tried the man who skin em' alive and take they hides
Step inside the barn of the naked enemies who cross my path of life
Don't pass the knife I won't pass it back Ima keep that shit cradled up right by my side
Fuck the conformity
Dylan is sicker than syphilis inside a ten year old with a facial deformity told that she's going to disneyland but instead left in the wilderness
With her four year old little brother right behind her asking when the parents will come back and find them
This real wicked shit from the mind of a psychotic serial interior designer
Designing the walls with guts of sluts that I lost interest in
And fairweather friends and businessmen who deliberately manually sent me spam
Creeping like the way a maggot crawl
Getting busy with the son of sam law
I don't take a day out to see a band
I take her out back to see a bandsaw
Dylan cut the meat up and I put it in a bag and put it in a hidden shadow in the property in the back y'all
Fuckin' with the killa gonna get you down up in a minute ain't no way that you can even comprehend or grasp on

(ahhhh you will pay.....pay)

Every since it happened you can't even stand to be alone
Show us on the doll where he touched your mans with the tony
Pointed at the head then started to break down cause mans brains got blown
Bad man Rozz in the danger zone when I'm angry you bitches ain't safe no more
I don't give a fuck about a thing I'm bout to split her everything up in my vision make me chicken
Got me clicking
Got me on a murder mission
Got me stuck on murder avaenue like Bushwick in 93' and I'm raking rella revenue
Really Rozzy run up on them and rowin' em then buck on them
I'm coming so hyper that you would think I was on Funkytown
Swinging like a pagan juggalo that got some mental problems can't nobody fuck with Dylan Ross just like [?] vagina
I'ma find ya if I really wanna kill ya

If you got a problem with a man who make the rain fall
Take the meat up out the freezer baby let the steak thaw

I'm just a sorry sack of shit who never learned what love was so I hate y'all

Hanging out in the dark

In the barrel of the .44