翻訳: お化け. 弾痕.
: Breaking in and entering, my will is the law. I feel the scent of innocence and I know it's all about to fall. Never repent or change, [x2] never
Load up your gun with me, run with me Become one with me, this is channel three High definition, ghetto TV, DVD Cable networks, stick your fingers In the bullet holes
he got into a wreck first i cried for him and then i cried for me haunted by the ghost of the girl i used to be but the rocks with holes are warm in
man on it Come in your house, now your home damn haunted See everybody dead, bullet holes in the head But I aint kill em, I hit em with the flow instead My flow like bullets
Your politrix are politi-kill I'll take the bullet to prove that you kill You front the facade of the "righteous man" But the hole in your heart puts
want that nigger dead and when you dead I'ma enjoy Haunting and taunting the microphone Reconstruct your brain and fuck up your chromosomes On my own since a toddler 45 bullets
Come and take a look at my mind You will see shit don't work properly on inside Outside is another whole story together Got six bullet holes in the
with all of y'all My name is Blaze, let me introduce you to my chainsaw What it sound like chopping your neck Bullet holes in my chest Like a straight
went unheard Buried in the casket, tucked under the earth For so long, with hopes that no one would get hurt, from this raging retard Riddled with bullet holes
like how the Park Hill cats love to pull metal The heat will make ya head whistle loud like a full kettle I come like the Mecca in civilizin' The hallway jackal, Chicago Bull
trouble in" Just 300, 368 Just 300, 368 Just 300, 368 Milliliters down Where you come from? Where you at, Jack? Is it the clothes, the bullet holes
three hundred and sixty eight Three hundred, three hundred and sixty eight Millilitres down Where you come from, where you at Jack Is it the clothes, the bullet holes
with cork crumbs Caressed my baby's cheek it died of boredom It's not a clear day until the war is done And I'm no longer haunted by the bullet hole
Hill cats love to pull metal The heat will make ya head whistle loud like a full kettle I come like the Mecca in civilizin The hallway jackal, Chicago Bull
