Pure Hell lyrics

by

Jean Grae


[Intro: The Bad Seed]

[Verse: The Etherealist]
It's Ether and I'm the answer; my flow is a f*cking cancer
My fantasy is to see my anger flatten gangstas faster
And hammer an exotic dancer on my c*ck til I c*ck
And shatter her and splatter her over you blasted bast*rds for banter
Transform like Banner, turn cars to projectiles
Civilian stampede; bodies crushed and mangled in turnstiles
Rappers get hurled miles when I'm battle rapping
We all be gat strapping; b*tch if you attack, we finna snap to action
Violent reaction when this mic in my palm
Only time I f*ck with a condom on's after it got arsenic on
I'm a god, I'm a don. I'm a spawn of Satan's true form
I'll never conform, just sit and jack my di*k to snuff porn
This beat is f*cking sick but my mind-state is sicker; bind your sister
Stick her with a shiv with syphilis and see her skin blister
Then take a p*ss on her, leave her dying in her own miasma
Then come back for the cadaver with a camera and a bag of Viagra
I'm the hidden danger: I'm predator X, b*tch
Oviraptor's in this mother-f*cker; I'm taking your f*cking eggs, b*tch
Neck stitched; catch you with a quick slash to the wrist
Leave you bleeding; tagged badly like DatPiff
I'm like a sonic f*cking boom
Rappers bleeding on the floor when I leave the f*cking room
Chair legs sticking out of they as*h*les; I blast hoes
Swanging a f*cking bag a stones; I'm a crack ho with an ASBO
I got a mad flow: it's literally f*cking retarded
It takes over my mental and it gets me on some dark sh*t
I am lacing bank bills nationwide with cyanide
Blindside a mother-f*cker: it'll be homicide by dynamite
Spit this last four-bar at you to split your skin
Sick, peeling sh*t with every lyric that I hit you wit'
Mother-f*ckers try to step to Ether; b*tch, there's no equivalent
I'll f*ck you in your sh*t just like that pig was in Deliverance

[Hook: Jean Grae, Pumpkinhead & The Bad Seed]
Yo, we spit bars of pure hell
Broke, poor rock ice with jewels
Still, don't equal what you sell
Life, we see through your crew's tales
News flash: pay your dues; ya crew's gas
Splash, f*ck who's live and who's ass
Yo, we spit bars of pure hell
Yo, we spit bars of pure hell

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