Luyện nghe bài hát Demon Executor

Comin' out the dirty bay area, Cali, it's the demon throw slasher,
lyrical y-dasher, the bible passer, to blasher, with my load of tech-
rhyme sprayin' bullets from the top of the cause I'm the lyrical,
miracal, spiritual teacher, Nicaragua preacher, who's out to reach you.
Group of thugs who call the X-Generation, through penetration of lyrical
bullets of salvation, so bring the roughest and toughest be screamin'
wanna start dumpin' and jumpin' demons like a initiation. Huh, who wanna
mess the craziest of em' all demons bringin' all and bang your head like
a teatherball, none a y'all finned to stop me, watch me gospel hip-hop
the day the casket drop, wa-la. That's right, 1997, the Demon Executor
up in this peace, I'm gonna kill all demons!

Throw yo' hands way up in the air, the sound of the electric chair,
the sound of demons screamin' fo their life and I'm the demon executor
hittin' the tonight.

I told you once I be the demon choppa, the casket droppa, the glak-cocka,
the Mr. Ready to hit em' up like 2-Paca. The demon bag zipper-upper, the
bucker, the one who got demons and beans on his plate for supper. I be
the nuttiest one in the clan with Mac Town, switchblades and bibles held
in hands. Yes, I am- deciphorus, ludious, craziest, demon killer within'
the California mile radius. Chick, Chick, glak-cock, to drop, drop
demons anywhere I don't care pistols in the air, ready to flare. I in
to set trippin, crippin, instead I'm in to mormanistic-satanic bible
rippin' lyrically flippin' lyrics a quarter in the air call it heads or
tails, from the hood up to no good. It's the body chocka, the mike-
stocka, the Mr. Put you in cement to throw you off a droppa. I be the
man never puffin' on the booda, I'm the chainsaw havin' demon executor.
Hey, bone, these bustas told me you rap. Man, let me show em' what's
up dawg!

Like Boyz 2 Men, I got demons on knee, beg n' plea. 'Cause I kill more
demons than got a whole bunch of them dumb- dodell peas. I'm the demon
executor comin' straight out of Frisco with Giants and Niner Gear to toe,
oh, you know? I be the demon neck choker, the devil smoker, the Mr.
Columbian Neck Tie get provoka. Repepermmeniti I'm ready to jack these
demons, they got no hope, gettin' up out my sythoscope. So blam, blam,
comin on, blam to dem 4, me comin' up out the like Mr. 2-Pac Shikur. Who
wanna be sweatin' it, wettin it' cause O.R.C. out with the lyrical
style you can't believe. Till the day I die, I'm throwin' up Jesus
Christ, executor fo life! That right! No, for real though, how you
gonna stuff the bone? I got back partner!
dialogue
Lyrics by
by Nick Woodrum ([email protected])