You pushed my buttons so here comes (Slaine) the nuclear man I'm wolf in sheep's clothing, a shepherd with Lucifer's lambs You're too stupid to stand under Understand the pieces of a mad puzzle with ice in his eyes Heat in his hands, gears turning like clockwork In my head counting each breath Death's a complex girl, how can I not flirt? Life's a bitch though death still hasn't took me yet But I'm talking with her and I think I got her pussy wet As long as I'm alive I'll personify a lust for life Agony and anger, danger every time I touch the mic I muster might to fight, swinging bats and busting pipes Broken glass, fallen angels holding dope in open bags This whole culture's bad, I am just a product of it How can you hate on me, homie? You know you gotta love it From Dorchester to Mission, Southie to Rottendale People listen to me and they love the oxycontin tales SWV 'Weak' Official Lyrics & Meaning | Verified  SWV 'Weak' Official Lyrics & Meaning | Verified [Chorus:] Tell me, what's my name, mommy? (Slaine) How will the game find me? One day laying in the rain with all the pain behind me They say you manifest the words that you speak Then it becomes real so until I'm murdered, deceased I'm a spit fire at you and curse from a throat On the edge of bursting with every verse that I wrote I tempted the fates, created the drugs They say I'm insane so when they ask you who I was Just say I was Slaine [Verse 2:] I'm the motherfucking rage of the renegade The face the enemy, the temper of an alcoholic wasted on Hennessy They eyes of a barking dog, the soldier at war I'm the white man, the devil man, I told you before The promoter of gore, horror that's sold in the store Got a God-given rhythm, kid, I know what it's for It's for pissing off the system while I'm holding my balls But this is just another rhyme that I wrote on my walls I lived the life that I depicted, that of the trife and wicked The graphic, gruesome, and grisly, the shiesty, icy, and vicious Drug addicted inflicted with remnants of social law Born in my scorn spread through the phlegm in my vocal cords My mornings are torn, visions of dawn colliding with night My soul at odds with itself, too divided to fight I wave a gun at the government with the flag in my face Point a pistol at the president, the faggot's erased
Slaine is a beast, one of the dopest out of boston. The underground is real, Fuck commercial bullshit. Tight jeans, autotune gay pop garbage. Thats just my opinion.
@blacknumber187 you know, that wasn't racist except for you saying not being racist, because that implies blacfk poeple are all about blign bling rap. lots of black rappers are grimy as fuck. u just haven't heard them.
