P.O.S. - Terrorish lyrics

rate me

Yeah, yeah...

Don't let 'em get a handful, see 'em with a handle of jack

Or crossed fingers on the hands behind their back

And with a knack to trust then disrupt

Lose trust then change the rules up

And who's up for tax cuts? (Crime pays)

Hidden estates with like really long driveways

Crime pays, rats in the hallway

Aim for the crack, fuck minimum wage

It goes, anyways sipping on a dry gin

Heavy headed living in and out of my skin

And living livid, glad for the chance

Glass full of gas with a rag in the other hand

Wild like a Taliban

Wild like a child slapped in the grin, black be the skin

Packed full of carbon

Packed full of carbon and starving again, c'mon

There's eyes in the back of my head!

Yeah, hold up, the buck stops disintegrating here (yeah right)

The fear generator's here y'all warmer

Deviating clear past the consumer, room for improvement

Trade space with some doom and gloom

Renovate with the renegade

Skate like the centigrade dropped

Consider the cold "copped" like a motorcade

And roll away contagious

And infect the vacant, good the fuck gracious

Gotta debase the basic, erase the facelift

Taste a bad case of the breaks and heal

Gotta create the makeshift

Swagger like it's yours and debate whatever you don't feel

And don't come "Knock knock, who's there? Boo, boo, whoing"

Live a little better than a bad joke

Who ruins? Chew through your wrist

Come on, let's do it, let's, let's, let's go

There's eyes in the back of my head!

I want them blinded, I want them blinded

But if I find the man who put my foot in the sand

And other heavy hearts, oh, oh, oh

Make it impossible to cleanse his sins

So unforgettable, so unforgettable

I-oh, oh, oh

I-oh, oh, oh

There's eyes in the back of my head!