This Ain't a Track - Al'Tarba, Unusual Suspects

This ain’t a track its a hearing test

But before I shout let me rip my organs out to clear my chest (AHHH)

I wear turtle neck tops

To hide the scars from where I tried to cut my head off

And while your balls sweat standing there

I’ve broken more legs then fat brairs have on plastic chairs

In the loony bin I chat rubbish

Type of cunt who supports Bush just cause everyone who raps doesn’t

Make snap judgements, treat kids as puppets

Find their ass and stick my hand up it

Befriend retards and make them smoke crack

I don’t graff but I will leave you with a toe tag

Peeps wanna hear our new lines so bad

When we cypher on our mobiles, we get our phone tapped

Your no match, close but no cigar

I’m throwing darts at your face and it ain’t a photograph

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Idiotic, sadistic, psychotic, horrific

Morbid, raw shit, face the facts

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Take that back

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Idiotic, sadistic, psychotic, horrific

Morbid, raw shit, face the facts

This ain’t a track this ain’t a track

This ain’t a track

It’s a eulogy for lost souls from my shooting spree

Only reason I spit, is to disrespect producers beats

And break the fundamental rules

To categorize me as death rap, cause that’s all I ever do

Accept the truth I’m a strange stranger

Bury you alive just to show the meaning of grave danger

An insaniac undergoing treatment

Do what the voices in my head say to control my demons

Preparing for human poaching season

Sharpening my knife ready for beheading your lower region

Which is why the only gems that you drop

Will be yours when I get you and chop your testicles off

Broke as fuck, all our money goes on drugs

Self destructive, no helping us with blowing up

The illest and were over obsessive

Each bar’s so over the top, you ain’t ever going to get it

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Idiotic, sadistic, psychotic, horrific

Morbid, raw shit, face the facts

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Take that back

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Idiotic, sadistic, psychotic, horrific

Morbid, raw shit, face the facts

This ain’t a track this ain’t a track

This ain’t a track

This ain’t a track, it’s white noise

Mentally ill, I watch shock therapy films by choice

Superstitious, the horror movie villain

Using used syringes as Freddy Krueger fingers

Dragging a corpse trying to hitch hike

Asking the driver if there’s room for one more inside

Break things when high or sniffing the solvents

From the same tub of glue I used to fix what I’ve broken

I like to pop shrooms, this may shock you

But I’m wearing odd socks underneath these odd shoes

Rock the same clothes everyday cause I want to

And go by the excuse «It's my superhero costume»

But that’s not true, after I cremate your corpses

I mix them in lines like cocaine and snort it

I got a lifetime supple of rhymes

I could be spitting bars I wrote now when I’m 99

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Idiotic, sadistic, psychotic, horrific

Morbid, raw shit, face the facts

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Take that back

This ain’t a track it’s straight up rap

Idiotic, sadistic, psychotic, horrific

Morbid, raw shit, face the facts

This ain’t a track this ain’t a track

This ain’t a track