Louis Logic - Visceral Literal lyrics

rate me

You son of a bitch...

Grimey fuck...

...

I hate you from the bottom of my heart

Smart talkin' bitch, rap-pseudo intellectual chit chat

You don't have to? wear a thought or peer at all?

When I heave a big axe at the back of your neck and head

And tear it off, soft, silly putty bullshit

I live to strip the flesh from off your bones, holmes

Homegrown slasher flick, spill the blood of pacifists

Kill your cousin and your kids, violent, nihilist

Stab your weak ass DJ with' a stylus, right up in his eyelids

Never, never, ever sever ties

Unless it's severing the spine from the nerve-endings of a clever guy

Runnin' from a cop car, clothes soaked in the blood of pop stars

Murdering is not hard! It's only hard not to murder!

'Cause women just look sexier, when they're chopped to burger...

Sliced down to size 'til it resembles anorexia

What chick wouldn't want a naked killer standin' next to her?

I guess it's just, guess it's just, probably it's, obvious

My hobby is, slayings of the sloppiest degree!

I'm an ominous disease or a gift from God

Eating people is a job, dining on a human shish kebab

With a slob's mannerisms, I'm still wearin' lunch

From yesterday on my shirt, at my Sunday mornin' brunch

Old folks havin' aneurysms, when I hunt

On the news, women found with blunt

Objects jammed up in their cunt

We interrupt this broadcast for a special newsflash

Today I stuck a shotgun up this broad's ass (blam!)

Back to you Tom, bad news, reporting live,

Following a serpentine blood trail at the murder scene

Back to your regular program,

Of bludgeonin' yuppies with their cellular phone then

Carvin' a grown man, down to the shape of a child

Now find the outline and save it a while

I got a sentiment for dismemberment

And enjoy scrawling letters in blood with poor penmanship

I'm like dismember, disembowel, disavow

Show up at the precinct, and ask is this allowed

With a gouge in my forehead

Shaped like a crescent moon and star

And a shirt that says "I kill for Allahu Akbar"

So I'm only doin' God's work

Waitin' for some unaware, under aged chicks outside a concert

The monster, who strikes like clockwork

Guerrilla, serial killer, fuckin' stiff chicks until my cock hurts

I'm a terrorist, heavenless, specialist, pessimist

Ever since my dog started sendin' mixed messages

Chicks with big breastsesses, started turnin' up dead

Found on an altar with altered measurements

Effortless precision, sharp knife management

Executed by the champion of killin' transients