Seven the Deadman experiences a strange existence.
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Produced by Sin7ven
Mixed and mastered by Disjointed
lyrics
[Verse 1]
Call me if you ever need a rose on your gravestone
The crows on the payphone are waiting like Penelope
The cold one, remain so, it snows on his raincoat
Flows on his brain, grown a tendency to devilry
Leisurely, sleeps on a bed of petals, dead ones
Every week receives sketchy letters spelling “redrum”
That’s adorable, raps deplorable but got flows
On his noggin, what’s his problem? Ask an oracle
Cuz, god knows, there’s other words than slurs to jot a verse with
Why you gotta curse kid? What if ya mother heard
Wordsmith, bunning herbs, stay high, above the curve
Strange guy, magi, snake eyes watching birds
He talks about himself in third person
Walks around and spray his thoughts aloud in verse, sermon
The man is an alien
He’s mad in the cranium, hmm wonder what sort of lab did they raise him in
[Verse 2]
Deadman turn a white flag into a red rag
Pry it from your dead hands and tie it as a headband
Deadpan, rhyming while he headstand
Fucking up ya image like a virus in a webcam
Piling up the dead, clan disciples of the left hand
Vinyls and cassettes bang, revitalize a deaf man
It’s Boomslang, learn the fucking name, bitch
You’re traipsing on the eggshells of a serpent, in a snake pit
I’m flexing, full of arcane fortitude
Showing up to cyphers pulling dark age torture tools
My god, I’ll take a giant bite off your crucifix
Emcees would give their right arm for tutelage
But I’m not one for mortal food
It’s sink or swim, I’m pouring salt down your snorkel tube
The rude, unless he in a cordial mood, sort of dude
Seven woke up from his nap, who wants to make my morning, who?