the man with the hand that rocked the cradle, uhh A lot of punk for the chunk baby that's a bet Album number seven and we still ain't finished yet I didn't get old
in my nature So four years now, that's what I've been searchin' for 'cause doin' dirt grows old when it's the same old thing That's why I try to take
Time to get with ya What ya think nigga Time to get with ya What ya think nigga I already done told ya niggaz Shit I showed y'all niggaz When I slaughtered
man (I'm so bad!!!) I'm in the building [J.R. Writer] Yo, I started the starters, and fathered the fathers who fathered I slaughtered the slaughters, and slaughtered the slaughters
actors What's gon' be the outcome? Hmm, let's add up all the factors You wack, you're twisted, your girl's a hoe You're broke, the kid ain't yours and everybody know Your old man
destroy and the world we build on top of it, Mercenaries get paid salaries to slaughter, Girls obsessed with body image find calories in water, Nurses comfort seven-year-old
I'm driven, Ain't the same old, lame old take it in the a-hole, Payola, payroll, dude shut your cakehole, This is soul like watching some day old, Paint
, We sailed off for Gallipoli. And how well I remember that terrible day, How our blood stained the sand we call Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
with my man Marley Marl Sendin' this out to Divine Force Can't forget my main man Heavy D And to my good brothers EPMD And to my man Ice-T over on the
and slaughter your lambs Your minds have been whipped by experienced hands I wish we were children I'd welcome the change And the mind of an old man you
As it burns up the range, 'til no man is left In the saddle Yore ranch is upstream and they dammed up the water Thirsty cows scream for mah uncle to slaughter
lose like one we'll stand We'll face the storm Created by a man Roar, roar, roar, roar Troy (Troy, Troy, Troy) And as the lion slaughters man I am the
Undead feast, as they tear upon your weak flesh Terror builds, at the thought of being dead Prophecy of the wisemen of old Now comes true, as the corpses
Undead feast, as they tear upon your weak flesh Terror builds, as the thought of being dead Prophecy of the wise men of old Now comes true, as the corpses
to feed them is something we need Like a musket shot straight through the head." Not much of a smiler - our man Wat Tyler (Died for the working man's
of hatred to fear enslaved Countless the dead slaughtered in your name Not a utter of your voice have you once repaid No above, no below, just a man
Who's arm is this? I must have cut it off of the pharmacist And refused to renew my seventh prescription of darvocets I'm the old man who lives upstairs
to lay in decay in toxic waste So most every identity paraphernalia to familiarize with smiles neatly painted on a robotic face But not this man, he
