Extreme Makeover

[Verse 1: Goretex]
Canarsie coven, paints with G's and murderers
Addicts and Cadillacs, slut teens and project burglars
Chicks and swappers and burglars, more food for the furnace
More goons and pounds of shrooms, more wounds to purchase
Glenwood morgue, third floor, with Gore in the winter
I'm flawless, sinister torrent, crawling off of your sister
Date rape is boring, tissue samples the best
I don't get stressed drugging these bitches
It's only at their own request
Unconscious and blessed, forget an apology
Too progressive, similar to an atomic proctology
We stock Rugers and bonesaws, crawling for sodomy
Zoloft smile, I'm wild, caught up in this space odyssey
Rest in peace, denim when we dress the deceased
His brain in the basin, the bloody mess next to your feet
Too professional, I'm quick to chop you up like sectionals
Extreme makeover, rocking the pens like vegetables

[Hook]
The final takeover
Get your wig cut, extreme makeover
Desensitized, I don't feel a thing, the pain's over
Look in my eyes, man
You'll die before the day is over
The newest change in your life, homie, it's game over

[Verse 2: Goretex]
I was raised in black, with a sick knack to attract women
Crack villains, we knocking off drug stores like Matt Dillon
Or Captain Trips, what's your poison, acid or dips?
Have 'em smacking each others tits in the back of the 6
Serial killers blowing up like Branch Davidians
Non Phixion insignia, cripple your camp like Syrians
See me, it's cool, haters trying to dump on my shit
Scissor fights since '74, they pumping my clip
Different Bible study, it's always five G's and commissary
These runaways, forever find pain, caged in my monastery
Sick sadists, my fanbase deranged like rapists
Nothing's changed, it's faith, all my drug pushers and sixth graders

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Goretex]
Knocking on Heaven's door, it's Gore, your guru was swami
Shoot you to pulp, flesh dangles like melted pastrami
You faggots are commies, swap cum like Macy's and Cosby's
I'm like Ozzy in '68, mosh pits and zombies
Pound you to dust, home attendants changing your diaper
In between nights, I'm maintaining and training with snipers
Your wig is a rave, turned up with cake and kronz
Haze blunts around the room while we burn the Qu'ran
We on body bags and tags for corpses that's vacant
It's a must without the fuss and compromise the cremation
So clean, murder scenes, devoid of conscience
To profit the doctor, scissor chops blocks, it's progress

[Hook]