Luyện nghe bài hát Demon Executor

Comin' out the dirty bay area, northern Cali, it's the demon slasher,
y-dasher, the bible passer, quick to blasher, with my load of tech-
rhyme sprayin' bullets the top of the mime cause I'm the lyrical,
miracal, spiritual teacher, street preacher, who's out to reach you.
Group of thugs who some call the X-Generation, through penetration of
bullets of salvation, so bring the roughest and toughest be screamin'
wanna start and jumpin' demons like a gang initiation. Huh, who wanna
mess with the craziest of em' all demons bringin' all and your head like
a teatherball, ain't none a y'all finned to stop me, watch me gospel
till' the day the casket drop, wa-la. That's right, 1997, the Demon
up in this peace, I'm gonna all y'all demons!

Throw yo' hands way up in the air, that's the sound of the 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 2-Paca. The demon body bag zipper-upper, the
demon bucker, the one who got demons and on his plate for supper. I be
the nuttiest one in the whole clan with Mac Town, switchblades and bibles
in both hands. Yes, I am- deciphorus, ludious, craziest, demon killer
the California mile radius. Chick, Chick, glak-cock, to drop, drop
demons anywhere I don't care pistols in the air, to flare. I ain't in
to set trippin, blood crippin, instead I'm in to bible
rippin' lyrically flippin' lyrics like a quarter in the air it heads or
tails, from the hood up to no good. It's the demon body chocka, the
stocka, the Mr. Put you in cement to you off a bridge droppa. I be the
man never puffin' on the booda, I'm the Texas havin' demon executor.
Hey, bone, these told me you couldn't rap. Man, let me show em' what's
up dawg!

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