KutMasta Kurt - Apartment 223

Song Rating: 7.27/10

Song lyrics:

Do not ring the bell, there is nobody home
The spirits around will haunt you, do not ring the bell
There is nobody home

Apartment 223,(scratch: Im very hungry) (3x)

Apartment 223 with body parts under my bed
Cut your abdomen out stab your f**kin leather coat
I chant while candles burn with robes on
You will learn
Christian no hebrew on the the balcony I see you
The devils coffin with corpse of course
In a mental state earthquake
Schitzophrenic eatin campbells soup
Takin a piss urinalysis test
I hope you wear a f**kin bullet proof vest
Just purchased the charter arms .38
Then you entered the confetti hell gate
On the pee(? ) floor bloody towels on sculptures
Machine gun suitcases, for all you n***as with 2 faces
Ma** murder, should have been in san quentin
Im doinlife to ten, when I come home you goddamn
Right Im goin back again
F**k the drinks on the table
While you sleep I take pictures of bullets in your navel
Open your face and pour milk in your forehead
Count the bodies, thats four dead
Look behind your f**kin back
With the drill bit in your a** crack, extreme pressure
Teach you a lesson
F**k your confession of evil I march with black sheep on the sunset streets
With hoods like dracula
I walk in back of ya
Draggin you stomach parts to mcdonalds
Drink absolut bottles and bottles, while you tryin
To f**k with the most exotic models

As you see the sign, beware of animals
A f**kin wild habitat
My living room is the wilderness with spots on
My carpet
Practicing my gun targets
Virtual reality is a rough end to yor career
Set you on fire in a leather chair
Using charcoal to broil
Rap you jealous eyeballs in aluminum foil
Wearin ma**es(masks) on the telephone talkin to
Your black a**es, with stocking caps I reach
Im takinyour a** in a rented van to venice beach
In a cardboard box
Beatin down your knees with a bag of master locks
Police cant hear you with a dead body tied near you
Its hot, I m drinkin soda with a tech-9 sprayin
Your fan belt motor

Stop the bullsh**, blast you hands of the hood

I pull quick
Video tape you in a puddle of blood with razors in
Your dick
With an extra clip I move your torso
Spit on you hips
With mac-11 vice grips, surgery is major
With my sneakers stompin on your pager
With my cup of maxwell coffee, I like n***as whose
F**k the critics I press your back
Steam burn through your straight leg jeans
Soakin your bones out in the washing machine, with
Tide soap in the laundromat you witness the k**ing
Your man got scared called riverdale with a baseball
Hat, took a cab to hawthorne
I know where hes goin
You cant hide in an empty apartment with a matress
And no protection, with a new york psycho
Bombshells in the hollywood section
Im pressin bells and bells and bells till you f**kin
Let me in

Follow you on tour like a haunted nightmare
Kickin in your intestines like rick flair
Standin by the mobil gas station with a flamethrower
And a f**kin lawnmower, throwin big lighters at your fuel tank
I smash your face in the elestric window, piss on
Your fenders
With my ubbrella up like the avengers
Plead guily in court bring Glocks through security
X-reays going for the worlds record
Shut the f**k up about music, Im playin checkers
With blood polo shirts
Lookin at the fireworks
On the dirty a** terrace
Bones in fridgerators spring water and lettuce
F**k it if your jealous
Gather crackers with flowers around em
Keep you eyes around em
Buck dishes, dial your ambulance Im on a mission
Open up your shin guards in tinfoil
Warmin my bread and saurkraut while your legs boil
Ketchup and mustard, f**k voodoo
Paint on my face lookin off my roof like shaka zulu
Surroundin you area for the biggest ma** hysteria
Muhammed dont (he mad? )
While you motherf**kers eat pork I tast real humans
On my fork

[Chorus x4]
[frankenstiens a**istant type voice]
You do not see anything on the table? (chairs
Squeak against floor) well wait until I get the box....

Date of text publication: 18.01.2021 at 00:19