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Holocaust - What Can The Matter Be - текст песни, видео

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Holocaust - What Can The Matter Be - текст песни, видео

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[Intro: Holocaust]

The Holocaust, The Holocaust, The Holocaust

The Holocaust...


A bat lives by hearing, the mother eats the moths and hats

He captures in full flight, I pull a knife or a gun, you're watching a bullfight

Can I strike in hooded knight, printed on the moon in gun heist

My gun is a revolver type, there is no other man as hype

As The Holocaust, despite hound, an Italian maidswoman

Dropped a pale to the ground, when she saw a bloody mess

As she heard a sharp sound, when the weight found

Then I escape the town, cyclone M.C.

Many bones are thrown for me, alot to eat

You rock to sleep, from the great caves I stalk in Greece

Piece by piece, God soldier alone, shown the feast

Going to sleep, heads flow the street, not by themselves

Some men retreat, love and distortion, bloody misfortune

Calmly swept off their feet

A phenomenon to natural science seek alone discrete

Known unweak, and grown physique

A phantom of a person living or dead, in a place

Where his body is known to be, from Los Angeles

To Manhattan, and back again

[Chorus x2: Holocaust]

What can the matter be? What can the matter be?

I came from the Wu-Tang Academy, ain't no man mad at me


The night scroll wind keeper and his end, were most

You try to return and find both of which were ghosts

Headless heathen and heroic heroes, on the shoulder of quote

The Undertaker is skillful, the makers of widows, forsaker of the hills

Behold, nature's criminal, creator of riddles, to break off windows

Got a weaker armadillo, your rhyme is next to zero

I bust your fucking head with a bat, in a table like Robert De Niro

My throw game is for the fire walls, the rap population plummet

American flag, a gun love it, a bird is warm blooded

And carrying for this gift from heaven, the dark overlord was

I wield fire sitting on a pillar thrown, the fucking warlock

Edgar Allen Poe died in Baltimore, was found lying outside a boating place

Probably on October 3rd, my gunshot through your shoulder hurt

Your progress seems very slow, your accomplishes may not show

Journey into an untouchable world, of darkness, bro

I paralyze my pray, and take 'em to an underground shaft

He who laughs best, laughs last, the smoke rises from the hours

After a timid atomic blast, from Los Angeles

To Manhattan, and back again

[Chorus x4]
Добавлено: 24.06.2012
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