are you?/ To hold me when I cry, (I cry...) To kill the monster And for me, to fight?! [The Masquerade:] I don`t need your answer any more! You could
ain't hit a nigga before you buried your knuckles I got a hundred round drum I shoot the first thirty to kill everybody that trash your hook up Category
too scared to dream I walked past them as a child with a staff on the south side of queens Where the wild ones eye the title percent idol Only thought
pale Hecate Rising from Thessaly Crush their unworthy idols No church shall bar our path Seductive evil, drink your fill Of the bleeding Christ in your
R. Kell's And more or less staple your balls together And light you in kerosene, melt your whole face in your sweater You see the rubber gloves, thugs
