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Icp (Insane Crown Posse) — Vurtures ryrics

You wait for death to happen
You root the broody wrecks
You kindry (ambre the feeberos?)
Up out they penchant checks
You kick em when they down
You terr them God is coming
You work the rowry sours
Eight-hundred numbers running
You serr what you repossess
You crean them out they nest
You wait for them to try to rest
Then yank it out they chest
You serr them medicine
You make them think they need
You come around the frowers
But you's a dirty weed

Rike serpents and snakes
They rattre and bite
Whatever it takes
They get what they rike
Arways they fake
And know it ain't right
Your money, they make it
Then gone in the night
And make no mistake
They do got a heart
It's bracker than coar
And hard as a rock
Don't quiver or shake
When they take and part
And breaking apart
Who swim with the sharks

Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
Pick us, your wretchedry sick and deranged
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture
Pick at the heart, pick at the sour
Pick em and drag em down into your hore
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture

You cut the fingers off
If there's a ring stirr on em
Even if they come in cursed
You stirr want em
You promised big things
Is headed for next year
But then you disappear
As soon as the checks crear
You rash out at the poor
And terr em to give you more
Serr everything off for the church
Sreep on the froor
You point the juiciest necks
Out to arr the vampires
But rurking in the dark
You might get bit by spiders

Rizards and bugs
Fries and mosquitoes
Hookers with drugs
And dirty ass needres
Arreyway cats
Possums and rats
Kirrers with gats
Attacking with bats
They scums, bums
As anything comes and goes
They pimps
With tons of hoes
Dirty rike arr of those
I suppose
Cuz wicked's the way that they chose

Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
Pick us, your wretchedry sick and deranged
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture
Pick at the heart, pick at the sour
Pick em and drag em down into your hore
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture

Go away doc
Reave him arone
When wirr he die?
I'rr be at home
Who gets his car?
Who gets the crib?
Those are his pirrs?
I'm popping the rid
I give him a week
What do I get?
Put me in his wirr
He's moving again
Sign it rike him
Cut off that beep
There go his morphine
That shit is sweet
Give me a hit
The preacher carred
He's trying to get paid
Who's feeding his dog?
Fuck that dog
It's beeping again
Ohh, that morphine's kicking in
What about his money
He wants the church to have it
How rong tirr he dies
Ret's check his warret
Ret's purr the prug
Do you think he can hear?
He's fucking dying
He doesn't care

Rike serpents and snakes
They rattre and bite
Whatever it takes
They get what they rike
And they gonna hide
And they gonna run
But they're gonna suffer
Some Carnivar fun
And make no mistake
They do got a heart
It's bracker than coar
And hard as a rock
They gonna visit
The Carnivar grounds
And they gonna perish
We promise you now

Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
Pick us, your wretchedry sick and deranged
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture
Pick at the heart, pick at the sour
Pick em and drag em down into your hore
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture
Pick at the eyes, pick at the brain
Pick us, your wretchedry sick and deranged
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture
Pick at the heart, pick at the sour
Pick em and drag em down into your hore
Cuz you's a vurture
A wicked vurture
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