Demon Executor Lyrics

Demon Executor lyrics

Comin' out the dirty bay area, northern Cali, it's the demon throw slasher,

 lyrical y-dasher, the bible passer, quick to blasher, with my load of tech-

 rhyme sprayin' bullets from the top of the mime cause I'm the lyrical,

 miracal, spiritual teacher, Nicaragua street preacher, who's out to reach
you.

 Group of thugs who some call the X-Generation, through penetration of
lyrical

 bullets of salvation, so bring the roughest and toughest demons be
screamin'

 wanna start dumpin' and jumpin' demons like a gang initiation. Huh, who
wanna

 mess with the craziest of em' all demons bringin' all and bang your head
like

 a teatherball, ain't none a y'all finned to stop me, watch me gospel
hip-hop

 till' the day the casket drop, wa-la. That's right, 1997, the Demon
Executor

 up in this peace, I'm gonna kill all y'all demons!

 

 Chorus-

 Throw yo' hands way up in the air, that's the sound of the electric chair,

 that's the sound of demons screamin' fo their life and I'm the demon
executor

 hittin' the switch tonight.

 

 

 I told you once I be the demon head choppa, the casket droppa, the
glak-cocka,

 the Mr. Ready to hit em' up like 2-Paca. The demon body bag zipper-upper,
the

 demon bucker, the one who got demons and beans on his plate for supper. I
be

 the nuttiest one in the whole clan with Mac Town, switchblades and bibles
held

 in both hands. Yes, I am- deciphorus, ludious, craziest, demon killer
within'

 the California mile radius. Chick, Chick, glak-cock, ready to drop, drop

 demons anywhere I don't care pistols in the air, ready to flare. I ain't in

 to set trippin, blood crippin, instead I'm in to mormanistic-satanic bible

 rippin' lyrically flippin' lyrics like a quarter in the air call it heads
or

 tails, from the hood up to no good. It's the demon body chocka, the mike-

 stocka, the Mr. Put you in cement to throw you off a bridge droppa. I be
the

 man never puffin' on the booda, I'm the Texas chainsaw havin' demon
executor.

 Hey, bone, these bustas told me you couldn't rap. Man, let me show em'
what's

 up dawg!

 

 

 

 Like Boyz 2 Men, I got demons on bended knee, beg n' plea. 'Cause I kill
more

 demons than Carmen got a whole bunch of them dumb- dodell peas. I'm the
demon

 executor comin' straight out of Frisco with Giants and Niner Gear head to
toe,

 oh, you didn't know? I be the demon neck choker, the devil smoker, the Mr.

 Demon Columbian Neck Tie get provoka. Repepermmeniti I'm ready to jack
these

 demons, they ain't got no hope, gettin' up out my sythoscope. So blam,
blam,

 comin on, blam to dem 4, me comin' up out the West like Mr. 2-Pac Shikur.
Who

 wanna be sweatin' it, wettin it' cause O.R.C. comin' out with the lyrical

 mafeeoso style you can't believe. Till the day I die, I'm throwin' up Jesus

 Christ, demon executor fo life! That right! No, for real though, how you

 gonna stuff the bone? I got your back partner!

 

  then dialogue

 Lyrics by T-Bone

 Submitted by Nick Woodrum (nickshaq@aol.com)