I got a fire in my soul. Where there used to be a hole. Like a blow torch burnin' bright. Don't know where I'm gonna dock it. But I'm feeling like a rocket
War, this means war Your weakness makes me sick Eternal struggle, the iron will of life Prayer to the father war Under the sign of hammer of thorn In
must hunt. The moment he stops, he becomes the hunted." War!!! This means war Your weakness makes me sick Eternal struggle The iron will of life Prayer to the father-war
Translation: Father. Torch Of War.
hunter must hunt. The moment he stops, he becomes the hunted." War!!! This means war Your weakness makes me sick Eternal struggle The iron will of life Prayer to the father-war
I'm just an aging drummer boy and in the wars I used to play And I've called the tune to many a torching session Now they say I am a war criminal and
E with no license or registration Heart racin' racing past johnny because he's racist 1987, the children of Ronald Reagan raped the leaves off your front porch With a machine blow torch
spread 'em out - show you what this lead about Take it from an old thug, whoever clean cold blood Believe they bled it out (yo) Crave for the war, pop
!) [Prevail] Amplified, fortified, more to my liking, Come alive, overdrive, certified writing, Simplified, mortified, purified rhyming, Horrified , glorified, war
I'm immaculate I'm tackling those Cackling crows attacking And I'm packing in shows Transform, but still come with fantastic form Ancient war chants
me to grow All I wanted was a family portrait See my baby?s on a ranch with horses But I was fucking devil bitches in corsets I was never really good, then I torched
ll only catch you and track you down With no deal, who you gonna rap to now? Start your own record company, that's profound Live niggaz gonna rumble when you back from the war
I'm a savior, I'm a sinner, I'm a killer I'll be anything you want me to be Silent as a witness Make your heart race with a death kiss I'm a soldier in a blood war
Two glocks foe tha war, niggaz die foe that infantry If I lay me down to sleep, I'd die foe that SCT Mo Murda's jumpin on that Clair side, foe that late
park, come to Compton swim with the sharks. I know the real kings of New York, that make me five borough thorough pass me the torch. A young Kane
Say that you will carry the torch Say that you will beat the winning drum You'll be there when the saints roll in With a back made of rubber, half made
day when he had last turned Sixty-five and could retire And the sons become the fathers and their daughters will be wives As the torch is passed from